Tinder’s use more nuanced in reality than its stereotype

Despite its fiery logo, Tinder is not the devil.

Myself, along with innumerable 20-somethings downloaded the Tinder app, intrigued by its stereotype. Some (probably men) fantasized that Tinder was some sort of digital brothel in which eager young sex nymphs would willingly meet up and imitate popular PornHub videos. It doesn’t quite work like that.

Tinder is a fascinating cultural phenomenon. Most people using the app have low expectations, and ironic humour abounds. After having used Tinder for a couple months, I noticed some interesting patterns: in their pictures, women are hardly, if ever, scantily-clad, and they appear dressed causally or even semi-professionally. I largely didn’t see women who felt the need to sexually objectify themselves. Also, women are three times less likely to right swipe than men. Tinder is a victory for feminism because women hold substantial power when using the app.

For the many people I right-swiped, I apparently wasn’t their glass of chardonnay, their shot of Fireball. But I did manage to match with interesting, attractive people with whom I shared similar interests. Most importantly, we only talked because on Tinder, two people can’t actually chat unless they match each other. Once this happens, they both consent to converse.

A few Women’s and Gender Studies students recently started a campaign to “raise awareness on the issues of online harassment” by targeting online dating sites, specifically Tinder. While I think their goals are noble, I think the students are confusing the Tinder stereotype with the actual practice.

These students claim Tinder “lacks proper privacy policies leading to exploitation.” I completely disagree. Tinder allows users to reveal numerous or no photos, and to write nothing or up to a paragraph. Tinder’s privacy settings minimize unwanted comments and are better than many other dating sites. Tinder is also fundamentally different from random unwanted comments on the street, because once two people agree to match, it’s fair game to communicate. And everyone can unmatch people they’ve previously right-swiped. I’m not saying that once women right-swipe they consent to receive derogatory comments — I actually support these students when they seek “more serious consequences” for online aggressors making inappropriately lewd or threatening comments. But I don’t think Tinder justifiably earns these students’ particular
characterization.

These students also claim Tinder “encourage(s) patriarchal behaviour” and that men and women “engage in these sites without an understanding that they… (perpetuate) rape culture.” I flipped through numerous male profiles and Tinder doesn’t seem to demonstrate male dominance so much as male incompetence. Again, women can prevent male entitlement with a left swipe. But a man must feel the impulse to write something when they manage to get a match. But what’s the difference between flirting and micro-aggression? It’s important to note that although Tinder certainly encourages traditional gender roles, accusing Tinder of patriarchy and rape culture are overstated because traditional gender roles don’t necessarily perpetuate patriarchy or rape culture. Tinder can actually be a space for discussion.

Of course, harassment occurs and I don’t mean to diminish the severity of certain instances, but I maintain that harassment isn’t regular and that men are generally more urbane on Tinder than the app’s stereotype dictates. In their attempt to stop the stereotyping of women, these students mustn’t stereotype Tinder.

These students also risk spewing feminist terms evangelically and dogmatically, replacing “fire” and “brimstone” with “patriarchy” and “rape culture,” and throwing them at anything that encourages traditional gender roles. Nevertheless, now that Tinder requires payment for unlimited swipes, the cold shower of capitalism will most likely extinguish its flame.