We gays love Grindr — but here's why I still refuse to use it

1. The app can be incredibly homonormative

The first time I downloaded Grindr, I was super excited to get to see other available gay people around me. I was still in the community-forming stage at that point and was just giddy at the idea of having other people I could be gay with.

What I found when I downloaded the app hit me deeply.

NO FEMMES
NO FATS
NO POCS

I was shocked to see such blatant and widespread prejudice in the preferences of the men around me (in the Philadelphia area). It was as if people were "shopping" for people as opposed to trying to get to know them. In the past I've had my own struggles with homonormativity, preferring masculine men to feminine ones, but I learned that attraction is moral and political. For one, if you set such preferences, you give other people the right to do the same. If you don't want to date someone of color, you give white people and people of color the complete, justifiable right to deny you based on the color of your skin. The simple fact is, when you declare yourself not attracted to a type of person, you are promoting prejudice, which is nothing more than the act of judging a person or group of people before you know them. Unless you know every POC person on the planet, you can't logically say you're not attracted to any of them.

While Grindr officially removed ethnicity filters from the app in 2020, this system of hierarchies and societal trends in its users turned me off me from Grindr immediately. What I wanted from Grindr was a sense of community, but what I found was a lot of people seeking hookups like they were ordering food off of a menu. It wasn't for me.

2. Where's the romance?

I'm not saying you can't find love on Grindr (anything is possible, right?). I'm also not saying the majority of people who use the app are looking for serious relationships. I'm a very romantic person and found that the speed with which conversations moved on Grindr was far too fast. I'd feel like I barely knew someone before they were inviting me out to dinner or to their house. It threw me for a loop.

There's no shame in moving quickly. Some people move faster than others, and that's okay. Again, it just wasn't for me. I prefer the tension that IRL conversations create; the kind that makes you think before you speak and makes you awkward. I feel like people are more themselves in person because on an app, people have time to say the things they think people want to hear. People can create the personas they wish to be and avoid the very real parts of themselves that they think people won't like.

3. Men can be very scary

I'm petite. Most adult men weigh more than me. People can say whatever they want online. People can use and send pictures that aren't their own. I know I sound like a paranoid mess with a superiority-complex, but the reality is that I have one life and I'd rather not risk it for a stranger I met through an app.

It's true that you never know what people are like even if you know them in real life, but it's also true that rape and sexual violence can (and does) happen to gay men too. It can happen to anyone. I know it's a stretch and that people will say there's always risks in life, and because that's true I try not to take unnecessary risks. I'm sure there are plenty of safe and kind people on Grindr, but I'm too worried to take a chance to find out. I don't have the trust level or confidence required to really enjoy the app. Maybe that's my loss.

4. Sex isn't really all that important to me

I'm team sex positivity. I think if people want to bang on the table, in a church, on the stairs, in a park, or however, wherever they want, that's fine. No one has a right to tell people what to do with their body as long as all parties involved are consenting and safe.

For some people, though, sex just isn't worth all the time and effort. I'm one of those people. Maybe my hormones never kicked in.