Being a Fem on Grindr

("Agnus" by Konstantin Korobov)

My name is Jade (They/Them) and this is my first blog post with UIC Radio. "Into the Bush" is where you'll find posts related to sex, gender, sexuality, dating, and health. Some weeks you'll find a post stemming from my own experiences or opinion pieces, and others will be on sexual health. If you're sexually active/curious, queer, trans, asexual, questioning, or just like being in other people's business, keep reading.

Let's start things off strong by exploring a place that I wouldn't send my worst enemies. Well, maybe I would...

Grindr is advertised as "The world's largest social networking app for gay, bi, trans, and queer people". Real ones know that it's actually one of the most used hookup apps. I'd been on testosterone for about 4 months at the time of joining, and one of the effects of T was an increased libido. For some, it can open the door to a more fluid sexuality and I was one of these people. I didn't know what to expect, and assumed that due to my feminine appearance that I wouldn't get much interest. Oh, how naive I was.

When you first log on, it shows a wide array of gender identities as well as sexualities. You list who you are, add some of what you're into (age, gender, body type, etc.), and get recommended profiles of users in your area. One of the earliest flaws I noticed was that you are only recommended a small group of people before you are met with a paywall that encourages you to sign up for the app's premium subscription. I had no interest in paying and thought that my time on the app would be a waste.

Until I got a message, then another, and another. In a span of less than an hour, I had received over 50 messages and even more notifications for "likes". On the surface, it doesn't seem too bad having people online express that they find you attractive, and if I were the young queer kid I once was, I would have felt a near addiction to the attention. Luckily, my years of therapy kept me grounded.

Now, the true horror begins. D*ck pics. Never-ending and accompanied by some of the most vulgar forms of speaking I've ever seen. I've had my fair share of objectification, but the users of Grindr take it to a new level. You learn quickly on this app that there is no "matching". You can be messaged by anyone, even if they are outside your set age range, don't have pictures on their profile, and meet none of the filter types that you set up with your account.

Being a trans person, I feel that Grindr makes it an accessible and normalized form of fetishization. One of the tags you can assign yourself or as a type you're interested in is "trans". I received countless messages asking questions about what I had going on downstairs, asking to see, and begging me not to "get the surgery".

Don't get me wrong, there were a number of people who were extremely respectful in expressing their interest, and in the case that I wasn't into them, they took the rejection well. Sadly, the respectful people were a rarity in comparison.

A message I was sent that lives in my head rent free

Never said a word to this man

I decided to keep pushing forward, curious if I'd find a genuine connection or even just someone for a fun night out. I could only handle being on the app for short bursts of time. The messages were overwhelming and the mental labor to sift through the harassment to find something more normal, was tough.

Over a 3 month period, I didn't meet up with anyone and I haven't used the app since earlier this year. I can't say that I recommend the app, nor would I say it's a completely safe space for Trans folks. However, I do appreciate the conversations I got to have. The parts of myself related to desire that I explored have made me feel more confident in my gender expression.

Have you ever gotten an unsolicited Nude?

Change Image

• Yes (So sorry babe)
• No (YAYYY)
• Idk if it was unsolicited (Let's chat about it)