I’ve always thought of WordPress as my third home – after Wijchen, of course. It’s been a scrappy, welcoming, brilliant mess that significantly shaped my career, friendships, and even pieces of my identity. But lately, this home feels different: more tense, less open. Maybe it’s just me.
I stopped contributing nearly six months ago. It was supposed to be a short break, yet it’s become something much longer. Now, I’m not sure that I’ll return. The lively debates around our community’s “kitchen table” have turned into whispered fears about who might be listening.
Why I’m writing this
With WordCamp Europe approaching, I should be excited – anticipating the joy of seeing friends and engaging in classic WordCamp shenanigans – but instead, I’m conflicted. Recent decisions by Matt Mullenweg and others have stirred feelings I can’t comfortably ignore. Friends banned, colleagues sidelined, and an unsettling sense that speaking openly now comes with consequences.
Even with recent reversals, unbanning individuals, and welcoming contributors back into the community, my anxiety around the project remains. This doesn’t feel like the WordPress community I fell in love with. It feels colder, more cautious.
The WordPress drama
The WP Engine debacle alone could inspire a Netflix series: public disputes, sudden bans, and court battles. Matt’s actions escalated a potentially constructive debate about contributions into a full-blown soap opera. Ordinary contributors like myself have been left wondering if our perspectives still hold any weight. It wasn’t just corporate drama – it disrupted websites, businesses, and damaged trust.
Part of the problem lies in blurred lines between WordPress.org, WordPress.com, and the WordPress Foundation. With investors involved in Automattic and companies reducing contribution hours, it’s created tension and confusion. The impact on the community, dedicated to building something that powers much of the web, has been substantial.
My personal impact
Witnessing respected contributors silenced or removed shakes my faith in the project’s openness. Many affected voices belong to friends and colleagues with whom I’ve shared laughter and struggles at past WordCamps. Seeing their presence erased overnight felt like losing pieces of the project’s heart. It’s disheartening to realize that loyalty and passion seem less valued than alignment with a singular perspective.
One of my reasons for stepping back from contributing was precisely this unease – feeling like I was building Matt’s personal project rather than an open community. Matt’s recent behaviour – acting more like a spoiled child than a responsible leader, shutting down progressive conversations instead of engaging constructively – has left a bitter taste.
The problem with a “benevolent dictator”
Matt’s contributions to WordPress are undeniable, yet a benevolent dictatorship only works if the benevolence remains genuine. When personal conflicts or frustrations dictate who remains involved, the community suffers.
Perhaps WordPress needs to outgrow this “dictator for life” model, regardless of how well-intentioned its leader might be. Another significant concern is that Matt often assumes he speaks on behalf of all contributors – but this simply isn’t true.
Where do we go from here?
So, where does this leave us? Short answer, “I dunno”, but I know silence isn’t a solution. Maybe it’s time for us, as contributors, to demand greater transparency, clearer guidelines, and genuine opportunities for constructive disagreement. Let’s rebuild trust before the fractures deepen irreparably.
Important conversations are happening right now, conversations that will most likely affect our community. Perhaps the strongest statement we can make is choosing to step away and stop contributing altogether. I know that this would undoubtedly have a massive impact on the web, amplifying the very issues WordPress struggles with in its public perception.
However, WordPress is built by people – brilliant, messy, opinionated humans who deserve leadership that embraces diversity of thought rather than fears it. It’s essential that we remain open to uncomfortable yet necessary conversations that challenge prevailing attitudes.
Reclaiming our voices might be the first step toward feeling truly at home again. Personally, I’d love to return to my comfy, cosy space rather than feeling like I’m stepping onto a battlefield.
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