Who Decides What We Can Imagine? The Hidden Struggle For Creative Freedom Online

We're living in a time when anyone can publish a story and find readers. Platforms like Wattpad, Royal Road, and Amazon have made it possible to share work that dives into trauma, complex emotions, dark humor, or topics that aren't always comfortable (with proper content warnings). It feels like a creative utopia. But behind that openness, something quieter is going on. The very systems meant to protect readers are also quietly shaping what writers are "allowed" to create. It doesn't look like censorship at first glance, but it does limit what we can express.

The Problem With Automated Moderation

Most major platforms rely heavily on algorithms to monitor content. These systems scan for words, patterns, problematic age gaps, or emotional situations that might be risky. But they don't understand context or intent. Take a simple example: A non-romantic scene where a 15-year-old comforts an 18-year-old during a difficult moment. In real life, this is normal. People support each other across ages all the time. But an algorithm may flag it as "unsafe" simply because it sees ages and assumes something inappropriate is happening.Algorithms can't read nuance. They don't understand emotional tone. They don't understand storytelling. And even when a human moderator steps in, they're usually under pressure to "play it safe." Legal risk feels more dangerous to a platform than silencing a creator. Meanwhile, films with far more disturbing or graphic content often get a pass because they fall under "artistic expression." Online writing doesn't get that same trust.

Disclaimers: Necessary, But Not Respected

Many writers already include clear content warnings. These disclaimers tell readers exactly what to expect so they can choose whether to engage. It's a respectful agreement: I'll tell you what's ahead; you decide if you want to continue. Yet, even with disclaimers in place, automated systems may still override the choice of both creator and reader. So the question becomes: If warnings are already there, why isn't the reader's choice enough?

When Readers Become Censors

Most platforms allow users to report stories. But here's the problem: a lot of people don't actually read disclaimers. They dive in, hit something emotionally uncomfortable, and instead of stepping back, they hit the report button. And when that happens, the reader ends up deciding what everyone else should be allowed to read. That's a kind of gatekeeping, even if it's done from a place of personal discomfort rather than intention. The impact on writers is real. They start toning down emotionally heavy scenes. They reshape characters to be safer, softer, less human. The story loses depth. The characters lose dimension. The narrative loses truth. At that point, the work starts to feel less like a personal expression and more like a sanitized copy of something that once had heart. I'll be honest: I don't always read every disclaimer carefully either. But if I ignore a warning and end up uncomfortable, that's on me, not the author. Disclaimers are there to help us make informed decisions. If we choose to ignore them, that's our responsibility, not a reason to silence the creator who put them there in the first place.

The Cost to Creative Freedom

Every time a nuanced, non-sexual emotional scene gets flagged… Every time a story about trauma or survival is softened to avoid reports… We lose something real. We lose the ability to explore the darker, harder, more complicated parts of being human. We lose the chance to learn from fictional experiences that could have helped us grow. This isn't about defending harmful content. It's about defending honesty in storytelling. If a creator clearly states that their work is not intended to promote illegal behavior, but to portray or explore complex emotional realities, that should be enough. The disclaimer is the boundary. The rest should be left to the reader's choice - not to algorithmic fear or reactionary reporting.

A Call to Question

Creative freedom can't survive if it's forced to fit into narrow, risk-free guidelines. Platforms could do better by: Treating disclaimers as meaningful consent tools, not as decorative labels people scroll past like ads. Letting trained human moderators evaluate context instead of relying entirely on keyword scanners. And realistically, since moderating millions of works manually is difficult, investing in training algorithms to be more context-aware may be the more sustainable long-term solution. Allowing readers to make their own informed choices rather than placing unnecessary burden on the creator. Honestly, Medium tends to feel safer to me because there's more human moderation and less automated panic-detection. That small difference matters. Writers should be able to explore the full range of human experience without worrying that a single report or misread algorithm will erase their work. Because in the end, the question isn't:"Is this content uncomfortable?"The real question is:Who gets to decide what we're allowed to imagine? And are we truly free to express ourselves without constantly worrying about being flagged or erased? If freedom of expression means anything at all, it has to survive discomfort. It has to survive misunderstanding. And yes, it has to survive algorithms. Thanks for reading this article.