Deleted & Dismissed: Was My Wikipedia Page Removed Because I'm a Queer Artist?

Wikipedia. For many, it’s the internet’s encyclopedia, a place that feels like the ultimate source of objective information. Having my own page there felt like a significant milestone, a kind of digital validation that my work and my story mattered on a larger scale. But that feeling turned sour when my page was suddenly deleted, leaving me feeling silenced and questioning the very neutrality of the platform, especially as a queer artist. This is my story.

The Dream and the Disappointment of Wikipedia

Like many creators, I saw a Wikipedia biography as a mark of relevance. It suggested that my work, my achievements, and my public presence had reached a certain level of recognition, backed up by reliable sources. As a queer artist and storyteller, navigating creative industries often feels like an uphill battle. Seeing my efforts reflected on a platform like Wikipedia – especially with evidence from over ten news articles about my work published globally – felt like a hard-won acknowledgment. I honestly believed I met their criteria for notability.

So, imagine my shock and frustration when I found out my page had been removed. The official reason usually involves Wikipedia’s complex "notability guidelines," which demand "significant coverage" in "reliable sources" independent of the subject. On paper, it sounds fair. But in practice? The way these rules are interpreted and applied feels incredibly subjective, almost like a gate kept by unseen guards – guards who might not understand or value stories like mine.

Notability: A Fair Standard or a Subjective Weapon?

My experience forces me to ask hard questions about who gets to decide what’s “notable” on Wikipedia. I had proof of coverage in multiple international news outlets. Why was that suddenly not enough? It makes me wonder if the type of recognition I received, perhaps in outlets that champion queer voices or independent art, wasn't considered "prestigious" enough by the editors who hold power on the platform.

Or, more disturbingly, could it be bias? I can't shake the feeling that the environment on Wikipedia, run by what feels like power-hungry individuals, is inherently unwelcoming to queer artists and storytellers like me. And I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. People have talked for years about Wikipedia’s systemic biases – the gender gap among editors and subjects, the heated arguments and deletions that often target LGBTQ+ topics and individuals.

What does "significant coverage" truly mean when the gatekeepers might bring their own biases to the table? If my work is celebrated first within LGBTQ+ media or independent circles, does that make it less valid in the eyes of Wikipedia editors? It feels like a system where unless your recognition fits a very specific, possibly heteronormative mold, it doesn’t count. This isn’t just about rules; it feels personal. It feels like erasure.

The Bigger Picture: Erasing Queer Voices Online

When a platform as huge and influential as Wikipedia deletes the page of a queer artist, the message it sends is chilling. It goes beyond just me. It contributes to a long, painful history of queer stories and achievements being sidelined or completely ignored by the mainstream record. We’re fighting for visibility in the digital age, and platforms like Wikipedia should be allies, not obstacles.

Deleting pages like mine tells other queer creators: your work might not be deemed "important" enough unless it conforms. It discourages us from sharing our knowledge and experiences, fearing dismissal or deletion. It also means the public gets a less complete, less truthful picture of the world, stripped of diverse voices and perspectives. Wikipedia's claim of neutrality feels hollow when its actions seem to disproportionately silence marginalized communities.

Finding a New Home: Discovering EverybodyWiki

Feeling frustrated and frankly, censored, I looked for alternatives. That’s when I found EverybodyWiki. I now have my profile hosted there (https://en.everybodywiki.com/Alexander_Paul_Burton), and it feels like a much more welcoming and less bureaucratic space. Platforms like EverybodyWiki often spring up precisely because people like me get disillusioned with Wikipedia’s rigid structures and internal politics.

For artists and individuals who feel shut out by Wikipedia, alternatives like EverybodyWiki can offer real benefits:

• More Openness: Their criteria for who or what gets included often feel broader and more understanding of different kinds of notability.

• A Calmer Environment: While they still need rules, the atmosphere can be less combative than the notorious "edit wars" on Wikipedia.

• Potentially More Agency: Sometimes, there's more room to ensure the information about you is accurate and fair.

• Celebrating Diversity: These platforms can become crucial archives for information on figures underrepresented elsewhere, actively building a more diverse knowledge base.

While EverybodyWiki might not have Wikipedia’s massive audience (yet!), it provides a vital space for people like me to be seen and heard. It shows there’s a real need for online encyclopedias that are built on principles of inclusion rather than exclusion.

Where I Stand Now: Demanding Visibility and Recognition

My story is a firsthand account of how online platforms are not neutral spaces. They reflect the biases and power dynamics of the people who run them. Having my Wikipedia page deleted, despite significant press coverage, showed me how queer artists can face unfair barriers even when trying to establish a simple digital footprint on the world's biggest encyclopedia.

It highlights why we need to keep questioning Wikipedia's practices and the biases that might be lurking within its editing community. It also shows why platforms like EverybodyWiki are so important – they offer a necessary alternative, a place where voices dismissed elsewhere can find a home.

For me, and for other queer creators, the fight for representation isn't just about vanity; it's about existence. It continues online, in print, on stage, and everywhere else. Whether it's pushing for change within established giants like Wikipedia, supporting inclusive alternatives, or simply sharing our stories loudly and proudly, we have to ensure our lives and our work are documented and valued. We deserve our place in the collective digital memory. My story matters. Our stories matter.