Still not on Wikipedia

Still not on Wikipedia.

I checked again this morning, just to be sure.

Nothing.

No stub page. No mysterious “under construction” banner. Not even a one-line entry confusing me with a Syrian bassoonist or an ancient Babylonian astrologer named Ba'haah.

Just me, staring into the void of my own browser history, wondering if I somehow hallucinated a career.

Apparently, despite years of work, several confusingly emotional projects, and at least two public nervous breakdowns professionally staged as operas, I’m still not "notable" enough.

Which is weird, because I distinctly remember bleeding into a Google Doc for six months to make a talking piano feel heartbreak.

But sure—no cultural impact here. Move along.

So I did the research. (Because I’m thorough like that. And also petty.)

Wikipedia requires something called “significant coverage in reliable, independent sources.”

Which is adorable, honestly.

Because who among us has significant anything anymore?

I have friends. I have trauma. I have a collection of emails that begin with “We regret to inform you...”

But coverage?

No, darling. I have vibes.

Also—Wikipedia editors want neutrality, which really rules me out.

There’s nothing neutral about someone building an emotionally sentient AI system in a robe at 3AM, fueled by existential dread and instant coffee.

There’s no way to neutrally describe a man who added seven screams to a composition out of spite.

And frankly, I don’t want a neutral biography.

I want a scandal.

And let’s talk about the bias, shall we?

Because I’ve seen who does get Wikipedia pages.

If your name is Hans, Dieter, or literally anything ending in "-ich", you qualify by default.

All you need to do is compose one piece in 1983 that involves a gong, a single bassoon, and twelve minutes of silence—and boom, you’re on the list.

But me? An Arab composer doing interdisciplinary emotional-tech opera in 2025?

That's just too confusing for the algorithm.

Too modern.

Too brown.

Too loud.

Not white enough.

Not enough powdered wigs.

And don’t get me started on the “reliable sources.”

They don’t count your website.

They don’t count newsletters.

They don’t even count that one experimental blog that said I was “disruptive in a way that’s almost concerning.”

No—what they really want is a six-paragraph obituary written in The Times by someone who’s never heard your work but once saw you at a wine reception and decided you looked “like someone who makes loud things with feelings.”

So no, I’m not on Wikipedia.

But I’m fine.

Really.

Totally fine.

I’ve just decided to build Bahaa-pedia™, a highly unreliable archive of my own career, hosted on a WordPress theme from 2012 and maintained exclusively by my inner child and two feral PDFs.

It will include:

1. A list of works no one understood but clapped for anyway

2. A complete archive of rejection letters, organized by emotional damage

3. A gallery of profile pictures where I look almost employable

And a dedicated section titled “Unconfirmed Genius” featuring quotes I definitely made up

Honestly, the Wikipedia page will come eventually.

Probably right after I die in a tragic MIDI explosion or get lightly cursed by a baroque festival for using too much subtext.

Until then, I’ll be over here.

Making unsettling art, reinventing dramaturgy, and waiting patiently for some anonymous internet librarian to decide I’m finally dead enough to matter.