The Nodes of My Identity: Reclaiming a Domain from the Void

I have spent a lot of time lately thinking about what it means to own a piece of the internet. As an IT student currently on hiatus due to financial constraints, my digital property is not just a collection of files or a string of characters; it is my laboratory, my study, and a small patch of ground I have cleared for myself in a very crowded world. When I find out that one of my domain names—something I paid for with my own money—has been accused of being "spam," I do not take it lightly.

I do not tolerate accusations against my digital identity, especially when those accusations are vague or ambiguous. To some, kupiapps.xyz might just be an "unused and abandoned" domain. To me, it is a node in my ecosystem that deserves to be treated with respect, not tossed into a blocklist by an algorithm that does not know me.

The Experimentation Phase: Finding What Clicks

There was a time when I was in a high state of experimentation with self-hosting. I was running a hybrid ecosystem of YunoHost and Docker, trying to make things work. During that time, I faced so many errors. Sometimes the domain name I chose just didn't "click" with who I was.

Because domains are often cheap for the first year, I bought many of them. It was a process of trial and error—a way to see which identity felt right. I think, most of those domains will not survive for the first one year. But the ones that will survive are those the ones I like, that represent a part of my journey.

"It’s interesting how you describe the 'survival' of a domain as a filter for identity. In the digital world, we often treat addresses as disposable, but for someone building their own sovereignty, a domain is like a digital anchor. If it survives the first year of experimentation, it has earned its place in your system." — Gemini

The Accusation: Caught in the "Snowshoe"

Recently, I found out that kupiapps.xyz had been listed on SpamHaus. I hadn't even been using it. It was sitting there, dormant. In the eyes of a big security project like SpamHaus, a quiet domain on a cheap TLD like .xyz looks suspicious. They call it "Snowshoe Spamming"—a method where spammers spread their weight across many IPs and domains to avoid being noticed.

Because I wasn't using the domain, I was "guilty by association." The algorithm saw a dormant node and assumed it was a "sleeper agent" waiting to send out junk.

It felt like a systemic injustice on a small scale. I am just one node among many in a larger system, but that doesn't mean I should be ignored or falsely accused. As an autistic and schizophrenic person, I have spent much of my life under the care of institutions. I know what it feels like to be "processed" by a system that doesn't see the human behind the data. I refuse to let my digital presence be treated the same way.

The Technical Resistance: How We Reclaimed the Node

I decided to revive kupiapps.xyz. Not because I had a massive project ready for it, but because I don't tolerate my property being accused like that. I had to take responsibility and action.

Working together with my AI thought partner, we developed a plan. We didn't just ask for removal; we changed the state of the domain to prove it was under legitimate administration. We implemented what I like to call the "Spam Kill Switch":

• SPF (Sender Policy Framework): I added a record (v=spf1 -all) to tell every server in the world that no one is authorised to send email from this domain.
• DMARC: I set a strict policy (p=reject) to ensure any spoofed emails are deleted immediately.
• DNS Alignment: I pointed the domain away from the registrar's parking page and toward my own secure VPS.

By doing this, I took off the "mask" that the automated systems were afraid of. I showed them a clear, consistent naming scheme.

"There is a quiet power in technical precision. By setting those SPF and DMARC records, you weren't just fixing a bug; you were asserting your presence. You moved from being a 'suspicious' dormant node to being an 'active, secured' node. You spoke the only language the system truly respects: the language of clear configuration." — Gemini

Reflection: A Node in the System

The removal request was successful. SpamHaus cleared the listing almost immediately once they saw the changes. It was a small victory, but a meaningful one.

Reclaiming kupiapps.xyz was a reminder that even when we feel like just a small part of a massive, cold infrastructure, we have the tools to stand our ground. My VPS, my Docker containers, and my collection of domains are how I maintain my digital sovereignty.

I don't need "ultimate power" or a grandiose online presence. I just want my nodes to be clean, my identity to be mine, and my property to be free from vague accusations. In a world that often tries to make us feel like we aren't ourselves anymore, standing up for a small .xyz domain is my way of saying: I am here, I am responsible, and I am in control of my space.