And many rely on the comfort and familiarity of an app’s exclusive queerness. responded, “feel somewhat comfortable with the other person.” Often, users share intimate photos only after another user has shared with them, maintaining power in a social exchange for as long as possible and relying on reciprocity and mutual vulnerability to reduce the likelihood of bad behavior. Many only share photos, graphic or otherwise, after “chatting with the other person” for some time - ranging from a few hours to a few weeks - sufficient to “develop a rapport” or, as Jared S.
Some anonymize their photos, sending intimate images without faces or other identifying characteristics. And many take steps to determine the trustworthiness of the people they meet online. admitted that “it’s the culture hard to avoid.” Others shared photos to verify their identity to others, while some shared photos in the name of sex positivity.ĭespite this, significant majorities share with the expectation that their images will not be disseminated further. Stephen P., a gay app user from Boston, noted that “if you don’t share photos, you can’t really participate.” Jason R. A plurality felt that sharing intimate images was impliedly necessary, with the pressure to disclose particularly strong among gay men. Other than their queerness, many shared similar thoughts and strategies about sharing personal information in an environment with strong disclosure norms. Some had since deleted their accounts many had not. They used dating apps for different reasons, too, from long-term companionship or friendship to sex or idle chat. These individuals were diverse on multiple metrics: race, gender, age, geographic location and apps used. Over the past three years, I have studied the designs of different queer-oriented dating platforms and surveyed and interviewed hundreds of users. It’s the law, or lack thereof, that contributes to app designs that put our privacy at risk. The problem isn’t online dating or the hard-earned freedom queer people have to live our lives out and proud.
They blame victims for sharing intimate images, as if victims are responsible for the bad behavior of their abusers. Maintaining privacy in this environment seems difficult. These stories are extreme, but not isolated: striking stories of extortion, race-based sexual harassment, catfishing and revenge porn are common on queer dating platforms. And 14.5 percent of gay and bisexual men who use geosocial dating apps report that someone has shared their intimate images without their consent. The teacher was at first suspended and then transferred.
In 2017, two North Carolina high school students created a fake profile and solicited a nude photo from their teacher, and then distributed the picture throughout the school. His intimate images were disseminated without his consent, and over 1,000 men were sent to his home and place of business looking for sex. Matthew Herrick, a gay man from New York, was stalked and harassed by his ex on the geosocial app Grindr. Sometimes, the disclosure can cause real pain. In one peer-reviewed study, 87.4 percent of gay male app users reported sharing “graphic, explicit or nude photos or videos” of themselves, higher than among those looking for opposite-sex relationships. But the demand for disclosure is powerful among gay people. Selfies and other personal information are the currencies on which someone decides whether to swipe right or left, or click a heart, or send a message. All digital dating platforms require significant disclosure. The frequency with which queer people using social media, generally, and mobile dating apps, in particular, amplifies the privacy concerns we face compared with the general population.