On September 23, my Wikimedia account turned three years old. Although I started out editing slowly and without really knowing what I was doing, now, looking back, I realize that my daily life is filled with wiki projects, wiki skills, wiki people, wikifications, wikirquinchos, and more—including organizing a party to celebrate Wikipedia’s 25th anniversary in La Paz city. And all of this has allowed me to see that, even though I sometimes feel we’re very constrained in this world—where there are many things we “must” do and few we can propose—this is a place that allows for creativity and offers me a universe of possibilities.

With so many options, I gradually decided how and what to edit. Many years ago, I was deeply drawn to photography, and as a teenager, I experimented a lot: conceptual, studio, and fashion photography… but the one that always caught my attention the most was documentary photography. There was just one thing I couldn’t figure out: I didn’t feel that taking documentary photos served any purpose, and without a purpose, things lose their meaning and motivation. So, although I never gave it up entirely, I gradually drifted away from that craft, until I discovered Commons—and I wish I’d discovered it many years ago. During that break from photography, I trained in digital rights advocacy, and that’s how I met the Bolivian Wikimedia community, which is part of the tech community I began to engage with.
I became a digital rights activist, and that’s how I ended up at my first major event in the wiki community: I was able to participate in the 1st Global Wiki Advocacy Meeting in Santiago de Chile. My perspective on public policy and digital rights was tied to the work of a team advocating for a personal data protection law in Bolivia, which also sought to amend or adapt Bolivian regulations to establish a legal definition of digital violence. But at this event, I was able to connect that perspective with the importance of open knowledge in the public sphere; it was the first time I linked those two worlds under an umbrella of principles such as decentralization and the democratization of information—the very foundations upon which the internet was built, from which we have strayed, yet there are still people fighting for them.
If I hadn’t gone through all of that, I wouldn’t have found the purpose I have today. I’ve recently returned to documentary photography with renewed vigor, because I understand the value of being able to photograph my surroundings and share them with the world. And of showcasing them, because it’s not only beautiful to see and preserve them, but also because in a world like today’s, my environment, art, natural wealth, the customs that define me, and so much more, are in constant danger. So, how do I edit? I edit my photos, trying to show as much as I can of what I see and have been fortunate enough to experience, because I believe there needs to be a place where these things don’t disappear, and where others can also learn about them.

What do I edit? I mainly enjoy uploading content related to my country’s natural wealth and the pursuit of climate justice, organizing editing sessions with volunteers who are actively engaged in the fight against climate change, such as the event “Free Knowledge + Environmental Conflicts.” I edit content about the Bolivian Chaco and the Bolivian Amazon, with which I have very strong ties forged through my work with the Bolivian Wikimedia community and indigenous organizations in those two regions.

Thanks to the connection facilitated by Isapi Rua—a Guaraní investigative journalist whom I got to know well at the Huaraz Gathering, where I participated and worked on the overall organization of the event— Wikimedistas de Bolivia later proposed that I coordinate, alongside Mariela Mvrucha of the Guaraní People’s Assembly, a joint project to highlight the indigenous people’s relationship with Aguaragüe Park, a territory that forms part of their traditional territory. Following that experience, I am proud to say that a leader of the Guaraní nation is now a dear friend.

Back in the north of the country, with Adalid Medina, a Tacana journalist, we’ve been dreaming of a network of Wikimedians in the Amazon—first in the Bolivian Amazon and then throughout the entire region—a dream that’s already taken shape. How did it begin? With a series of workshops held in 2024 in Tumupasa, the cradle of the Tacana nation, where participants expressed, in their own words, their knowledge about their nation. They told us about their online practices and how they are dealing with forest fires, among other challenges. That entire experience led to a comprehensive line of work by Wikimedistas de Bolivia centered on the right to self-representation.
We are building the network amid challenges—access gaps, distances, and a simmering economic and political crisis in the country—but we have a community that we know wants to participate in many ways. We want to show them the way and make Wikipedia truly an encyclopedia that everyone can edit, one that is genuinely open to human knowledge.
Currently, together with Nicaela León, an indigenous languages activist and Wikimedia volunteer, and Adalid Medina, we are working on the design of Open Educational Resources: in this instance, alphabets and infographics for the Tacana, Esse Eja, and Uchupiamona languages. Together with Adalid, we’ve already developed a plan to visit the three indigenous nations and share information about free knowledge on Wikimedia and OpenStreetMap, responding to the ideas and needs of these nations as they strive to strengthen their culture and speak about it to the world in their own voice. We will work with these three indigenous nations, which serve as gateways to the Amazon; the Uchupiamona, in particular, live within Madidi National Park. We will share knowledge rooted in their oral traditions, and we will do so for and from the perspective of each indigenous nation. We aim to build a consolidated Amazonian Wiki Network.

And finally, I enjoy editing content about graffiti. I want to share information about street art in my country and others, recognizing how valuable it is to build a repository for this ephemeral art form and to highlight the work of the many people who invest money in materials, time, and even their health. They do all this work for different reasons, but not for money: they seek to engage in a dialogue with the people who view their work. That’s why I’ve been sharing and trying to categorize urban art in my city with the help of Wikimedia Commons, highlighting the work of the entire graffiti community, of which I am also a part.

Thank you, Wiki, for giving me a universe of possibilities and for letting me love my work; my Wiki birthday is, in a way, yours too.
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