On Sunday afternoon, I woke up from a nap to an email saying my Etsy shop had been suspended due to suspected fraudulent activity.
My first thought was that it must be spam. So I checked the email address carefully. It looked legitimate. I tried to log into my Etsy account – and I couldn’t.
My shop was gone.
There was no way to view my listings, check my funds, access my customer contacts or even see what had happened. All I had was the option to submit an appeal.
I held it together for about 30 minutes. Then I ended up in the bath and just cried.
My logical brain kept telling me this had to be a mistake. I would submit an appeal, someone would review it, realise there had been an error, and my shop would be restored.
But what hurt most at that moment was the timing.
The previous Friday and Saturday evenings, I had spent hours preparing a listing for the Etsy Design Awards. Did I think I would win? No. But did I want to put my work forward, take part and have the chance to be considered? Absolutely.
The deadline was Tuesday morning – and suddenly I couldn’t even access my own shop.
With the help of the Pink Gorilla Collective, a small business guidance group run by Zoe Pocock and Steph Briggs, I put together my appeal. I honestly don’t know how I would have handled that first day without their support.
I explained that I believed my account had been suspended in error. I made it clear that I was happy to provide any documentation, evidence of my work or information needed to prove that I was a genuine handmade seller.
The only thing I could think of that may have triggered an automated review – although it seemed unlikely – was that I had recently used an approved third-party plugin to connect my Shopify store with Etsy. It is a tool used by many sellers, but I wondered if that had somehow caused an issue.
I submitted my appeal and waited.
Then, on Wednesday morning, I woke up to an email saying my appeal had been denied.
I was honestly shocked.
I had been so sure that once someone looked at my shop properly, they would see what I was building: original artwork, handmade pieces, my own designs and a genuine small creative business.
But that wasn’t the outcome.
At that point, I felt completely defeated.
I spoke to Zoe, and we both came to the same realisation: regardless of what happened next, I didn’t want my entire business to depend on a platform where I had no control over what happened to it.
That day, I created a reel sharing what had happened.
I’ll be honest – I found it really difficult. It was emotional to put something so personal out into the world. Writing this blog has felt similar.
But I shared it anyway.
And the response completely overwhelmed me.
The kindness, messages, comments and support I received reminded me that Wild Minder is not just a shop. It’s a community of people who connect with the stories, creativity and meaning behind what I make.
So many people shared their own experiences and frustrations with Etsy. A common feeling was that Etsy has changed, and many handmade makers are struggling to be seen amongst mass-produced products, dropshipping and AI-generated content.
The post reached thousands of people and continued to receive support and conversations long after I shared it.
A few people kindly sent me possible Etsy contact details. Finding a way to actually speak to someone directly felt almost impossible, and although I appreciated everyone trying to help, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to continue fighting their decision.
Etsy had taken something I had built and made me feel like I had no say in what happened next.
Then something unexpected happened.
Helen, who runs the Global Market Forum (where I’ll be selling at Christmas) and the Norwich Etsy Facebook group, reached out after seeing my story. She contacted Etsy on my behalf.
Within less than six hours, I received an email saying my shop had been reopened.
Once again, I was shocked.
I was grateful. Truly. I’m incredibly thankful to Helen and to everyone who supported me. The power of people coming together to help each other has been the biggest positive thing to come out of this whole experience.
But it also left me with a strange feeling.
Because in the days before my shop was reopened, I had already started accepting that it was gone. I had started thinking about what came next. I had started rebuilding.
And I realised something important:
When my Etsy shop disappeared, I thought I had lost everything. But actually, I had discovered something much more valuable.
I had discovered that Wild Minder existed beyond one platform.
I have my own website. I have my own community. I have people who care about the stories behind my work.
And nobody can take that away from me.
So now I have a choice.
I can keep my Etsy shop open, or I can choose to close it myself – not because of an accusation that wasn’t true, but because I want to build Wild Minder somewhere that I have ownership and control.
I’ve had lots of recommendations for Folksy, so that is something I’m exploring. My Shopify store will continue to be my main home, because that is something I own and can grow.
The biggest lesson Etsy taught me wasn’t about Etsy.
It was about building something that belongs to me.
Nature teaches us that endings and beginnings are often connected. A fallen tree creates space for new growth. A seed has to disappear beneath the soil before it can become something new.
Maybe this is just another chapter in Wild Minder’s story.
So, from the bottom of my heart – thank you.
Thank you to everyone who commented, shared, messaged, offered advice or simply took the time to support me.
This week has been overwhelming, frustrating and emotional.
But more than anything, it has shown me something I won’t forget:
The most valuable part of Wild Minder was never the marketplace it was sold on.
It was the people who believed in it.
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Update: Today I spent the day by the sea. I tried to escape my thoughts for a while, but that’s always easier said than done. I’d be lying if I said this situation wasn’t still on my mind.
After a lot of reflection, I’ve made a decision.
I’ve decided to discontinue my Etsy shop – on my terms.
What happened to me, and to so many other genuine handmade sellers, has made me realise it’s no longer a platform I want to build my business on. Between the rise of AI-generated products, mass-produced goods, and dropshipped items flooding the marketplace, it no longer feels like the home for independent makers that it once was.
Instead, I’m choosing to put my energy into growing my own Shopify store, where I can build something that’s truly mine. I may also explore Folksy, a marketplace that still celebrates genuine handmade work.
This isn’t the ending I expected – but perhaps it’s the beginning I needed.
