Compulsory interracial intimacy: Why does removing the ethnicity filter on dating apps not benefit racial minorities?

Sexual racism on dating apps

Dating apps are location-based platforms through which users can connect for the purposes of dating, hookups, or occasionally networking (Chan, 2021). However, most users are looking for sex or romance. Dating app users’ intimate experiences are not necessarily isolated cases, but rather involve both individuals and those around them, and may draw upon shared narratives (Berlant, 1998: 281). Although the mission of these apps is to connect users, scholars have determined that dating apps, regardless of whether they are gay, lesbian, or straight apps, have been saturated with sexual racism across societies. Rather than connecting users, many scholars instead say that they divide users of different races and ethnicities (Chan et al., 2021; Chen and Liu, 2021; Conner, 2019; Han, 2021; Li and Chen, 2021; Peck et al., 2021; Pieber, 2021; Robinson, 2015; Stacey and Forbes, 2022; Ang et al., 2021). Political scientist Bedi (2015: 998) theorizes sexual racism as ‘prioritizing individuals as romantic partners in a way that reinforces ideas of racial hierarchy or stereotypes’ and points out that intimacy should be seen as a matter of social justice. On dating apps, users often express racial preferences in the disguise of ‘personal preference’, a new sexual racist practice that results in the exclusion or marginalization of queer people of color (Collins, 2004; Robinson, 2015). Thus, sexual racism is a continuation, reproduction, or even intensified form of racial inequality in the most intimate sphere which people often justify as a ‘private and harmless matter’.

Previous research has shown that sexual racism manifests in three ways on dating apps: blatant exclusion, subtle discrimination, and sexual fetishization. Blatantly exclusionary racism is marked by users’ direct demonstration that they are not interested in a particular race, such as the discourse of ‘no black and no Asian’ (Chan et al., 2021; Li and Chen, 2021). But more often, people reveal their exclusionary desires in subtle ways, such as suggesting cultural incompatibility or blaming their family to validate their desires (Peck et al., 2021). The third sexual racism differs from the former two because rather than cast negative stereotypes on a certain race, users often express racial preferences for a certain race, often a non-white race, which is characterized as ‘positive racism’. People use various discourses to justify the desirability of the entire race instead of degrading it, yet this positive discourse fixates a member from a group to the stereotypes of the entire race (Phan Howard, 2021; Stacey and Forbes, 2022: 2). Typical cases of racial fetishization include ‘big black dick’, ‘docile Asian women’, and ‘passionate Latinos’. The problem of fetishization is that it leaves little room for individual agency and distinction, and also makes deeper connection hard to establish (Stacey and Forbes, 2022). Hence, racism can manifest itself as both exclusion and inclusion in sexual fields.

How can digital users practice sexual racism on dating apps? Many users indicate their preferences or exclusions in their profiles. They can also ignore messages from people of certain races that are not within their preference range, and some even harass people whose races they deem to be inferior. These practices are common in the offline world as well, such as in bars and clubs, and thus, this is not novel. What concerns scholars is the digital infrastructure that affords users more approaches to practicing racism, such as the blocking feature and the ethnicity filter (Pieber, 2021; Robinson, 2015; Winder and Lea, 2019). Design elements such as ethnicity filters allow users to exclude people of a certain race from their interface, exacerbating the problem of racial minorities’ invisibility in society. Visibility has been a critical issue in media studies because it refers to basic acknowledgment, if not recognition, of the existence of marginalized communities. In addition, filters enable users to fetishize racial groups by only filtering them ‘in’. Whether they are used to filter out or to filter in, ethnicity filters are believed to be responsible for reproducing racist narratives and exacerbating racial inequality in cyberspaces. Scholars also believe that ethnicity filters’ design marks dating apps’ endorsement of sexual racism, as a particular type of digitally institutionalized racism.

In this light, mitigating racism has been a crucial task for dating apps in recent years. There are multiple methods for tackling this issue. From an instrumental perspective, it is easier to simply remove ethnicity filters than to regulate users’ profiles or conversations to combat racism. Therefore, scholars and users have been advocating that dating apps should remove their ethnicity filters to demonstrate their commitment to racial justice. In the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement in the summer of 2020, several popular gay dating apps removed this option from their platforms.

Is there a way to express racial preferences that is not racist?

Over a year has passed since the mass removal of ethnicity filters by gay dating apps. However, discussion about sexual racism on dating apps has persisted because racism has never been eliminated from these platforms. I am not stating that removing the ethnicity filter has no impact on combating racism. It does help reduce the possibility of expressing overt racism through this institutionalized feature, gaining visibility for racial minorities on dating apps.

However, the assumption underlying the necessity of removing the ethnicity filter is that no expression of racial preference is innocent because expression of racial preference is based on stereotyping an entire race. I argue that this perspective that all racial preferences are racist neglects the importance of expressing intra-racial desires for racial minorities and their needs beyond interracial relationships. In fact, expressing intra-racial desires among racial minorities could be a way to personal empowerment, a means of evading harassment and fetishization, and a remedy for racial trauma in an environment in which racism has not only affected individuals’ sexual opportunities, but also their self-esteem and identity construction. Han and Choi (2018) have noted that in recent years an increasing number of gay men of color have expressed preferences for men of their own races. This type of intra-racial desire contests whiteness as the only source of desirability. It also indicates that more gay men of color have removed the shackles of internalized racism and boosted their self-esteem. By expressing preference for their own race, many minorities intend to challenge extant racialized norms of esthetics, and undermine racial hierarchy and/or stereotypes (Bedi, 2015). In non-Western societies where white people are a minority, other racial minorities also need to confront different majorities and negotiate to obtain more sexual opportunities. In Singapore, for example, Malays and Indians often resort to negotiating for Chinese majority membership on dating apps by showing how they are related to Chineseness, and many have shown explicit preference for Chinese. However, some minorities turn to people of their own races so as to evade sexual racism (Ang et al., 2021). In these cases, it would be inaccurate to jump into the conclusion that the racial preferences for their own race reflect racism. Moreover, certain groups, such as Black women and Asian men in Western societies, often encounter more barriers on sexual markets due to their perceived low sexual capital and lower position in sexual hierarchies (Chen and Liu, 2021; Curington et al., 2021). In this regard, these preferences for their own races among racial minorities are a means to reduce the possibility of confronting racism, though internalized racism persists in their communities. Thus, underprivileged racial groups often express intra-racial preference, not to degrade other races, but rather to protect themselves from racism, validate the desirability of their own race, and contest extant racial hierarchies.

Compulsory interracial intimacy

It is undeniable that the removal of ethnicity filters has led to fewer ways to express racism on dating apps. However, as aforementioned, expressions of racial preferences among minorities are also used to combat racism. I contend that removing the ethnicity filters has eliminated opportunities for many racial minorities to connect with other minorities. This disruption has also generated a culture of compulsory interracial intimacy that forces racial minorities to connect with geographically proximate majorities who are either not interested in them or fetish them. This compulsory culture is embedded in the infrastructure of filter-free dating apps, further marginalizing, or even displacing, racial minorities from these apps. At face value, the removal of the ethnicity filter is in alignment with the Black Lives Matter movement. However, this is based on a color-blind assumption that removing ethnicity filters would open more opportunities for interracial interactions and racial line-crossing.

According to a Pew Research Center study, in the United States, the intermarriage rate rose from 3% in 1967 to 17% in 2015, and this increase in interracial relationships is believed by some to mark the end of racial segregation and the progress of racial equity (Livingston and Brown, 2017). However, people of different races and genders have unequal opportunities to develop interracial relationships. Sociologist Qian (2020) conducted a micro social experiment of online dating in Canada by using two Tinder accounts: an Asian woman and an Asian man; the two accounts had similar profiles. However, the Asian woman received numerous ‘likes’ while the Asian man generated little response. Though looks matter, as Qian also pointed out, the intersection of race and gender dominates dating markets. People such as Asian men and black women have faced the most difficulty in establishing interracial relationships (Collins, 2004; Kao et al., 2018). The unequal sexual opportunities for different racial minorities reveal another need to develop intra-racial connections for certain groups.

What does it mean to have the ethnicity filter removed for these minorities with limited opportunities in sexual markets? It exposes these racial minorities to more vulnerability in white (or other racial majorities in non-Western societies)-dominated apps: to be ignored, harassed, or fetishized, because users’ (lack of) desire toward these groups will not magically disappear alongside the removal of the filters. For example, on Grindr, minority users are dispersed across cities (other than those concentrated in certain ethnic neighborhoods). This is particularly the case for those racial groups with smaller populations, such as Native Americans. When an ethnicity filter is an option on these location-based apps, after paying a premium fee, minority users may find other users who are more likely to be attracted to them, or at least more likely to respond to them. These people are often of their own races. In addition, dating apps limit the number of profiles that users can see or swipe. Among the limited numbers of profiles viewable to them, in most Western cities, the overwhelming majority are those of white users. Thus, it is common that they may only find a handful of users of their own race, unless they relocate to neighborhoods where minorities congregate. In this case, ethnicity filters are a useful tool for minority users to locate people of their own races, who would otherwise be unviewable to them without a filter, due to distance. Ultimately, this provides them with more chances to establish connections. The importance of the ethnicity filter increases for racial minorities in smaller towns which are dominated by white people. Thus, the filter works like a compass that may direct and even connect them to users in nearby towns. However, removing the ethnicity filter eliminates this singular effective way for minorities to connect, leaving them directionless. As a result, racial minorities are forced to confront a large pool of members of the racial majority, most of whom neglect their existence on the dating apps, considering the prevailing sexual racism nowadays.

In this regard, minority users are left with little choice but to pursue connections with people of other races around them and viewable to them. Because racism does not evaporate as soon as the ethnicity filter is removed, many racial minorities inevitably experience varying degrees of mistreatment on dating apps, which may worsen their racial trauma. Thus, due to the difficulty in connecting with users with the potential to desire them (and not in a fetishizing way) in ethnicity-filter-free apps, many minorities are further marginalized. Some of them see little potential in developing meaningful connections, or in easy hookup opportunities. Consequently, many have no choice but to leave or delete these ‘dead’ apps which are of no use to them, and potentially are tools for exacerbating their suffering. Thus, rather than empowering racial minorities by gaining them visibility, removing the ethnicity filter cuts off avenues for building connections, and compels many racial minorities to connect with users of other races who are unlikely to be sexually attracted to them.

I maintain that the culture of compulsory interracial intimacy is nurtured by the premise that we have entered a post-racial era in which racial lines are crossable, as long as we remove barriers such as ethnicity filters. However, critical race theorist Goldberg (2015) has shown that the promotion of the idea of a post-racial society enables racism to proliferate and is itself a new form of racism. Paradoxically, the intention to create inclusion by removing the ethnicity filter leads to more exclusion, because this move is, to a large extent, color-blind and overlooks the fact that filters can also serve as protective tools for underprivileged users. Because white people lie in the upper side of hierarchies of desirability, the visibility of more racial minorities only enables white users to gain sexual opportunities, given that few people say ‘no whites’ on dating apps (Han and Choi, 2018). Thus, removing the ethnicity filter benefits racial majorities on dating apps more than the minorities.

Many minority dating app users complain about the impasse they now face – having few opportunities to pursue others who may be interested in them, due to the lack of an ethnicity filter. Some people have suggested on Quora that racial minorities could go to ‘ethnic’ apps or dating websites, such as black, Asian, or Native American apps. Examples they mention include BlackPeopleMeet or Jdate, where they could find people of their own races or ethnicities. However, one user pointed out that he found it hard to meet black people on an app designed for black people. This is because it has drawn many users who fetishize the intended users. In addition, not all racial and ethnic groups have the resources to launch these apps and sustain their development. More importantly, this suggestion points to a new form of racial segregation in digital spaces, moving even further from the goal of creating inclusive dating apps and combating racism.

The negligence of intersected oppressions on dating apps

In addition to compelling interracial intimacy that does not often benefit racial minorities, another problem of removing the ethnicity filter is the negligence of intersected oppressions on dating apps. Grindr and Scruff have also removed HIV status from their filters to reduce discrimination against HIV positive users, but have kept other filters such as age, height, weight, and body type. Sociologist Conner (2019) demonstrates that gay male users also reproduce problems such as ageism and body shaming on Grindr, but these problems remain unaddressed. My intention is not to implore dating apps to remove filters all at once. What is concerning is that there have been few reflections on whether dating apps should eliminate more filters, implying that discrimination based on factors such as age and body type are legitimate, unlike sexual racism.

When I attended the annual conference of the National Communication Association in 2019, one presenter critiqued the prevalent sexual racism on Grindr, but validated other types of ‘personal preferences’ based on body type. The presenter claimed that the distinction is that race is unalterable, while body type can be changed. Similarly, Bedi (2015) differentiates discrimination based on race from ‘selection’ based on height, and contends that the latter is a valid preference. To justify his claim, he argues that sexual racism draws upon racial stereotypes and categorizations that have legal, social, and political salience, while traits such as weight or height do not ‘trigger and implicate socially and historically grounded stereotypes’ (p. 1004). It is true that race is a more important demographic factor at this historical moment, because racism has been institutionalized in many Western societies, and has even threatened racial minorities’ lives, especially for black and indigenous people. However, I cannot agree with his claim that physical traits have no bearing on stereotypes. Instead, body types and age have long been associated with stigmas and social stereotypes. For example, people often perceive oversized bodies as less masculine because of their softness and distance from hard and impenetrable masculinity. Davies (2021) points out that scholars of dating apps have yet to give sufficient attention to the regulation of fatness and femininity on gay dating apps. Ageism also prevails on dating apps. Apart from ‘no black, no Asian, no femme, no fat’, it is also common to see people stating ‘no old’ on dating apps. Many older people do not find hospitality on apps, and instead face daily hostility when they simply show intentions similar to those of younger people. In this light, what should dating apps do with filters other than ethnicity? Should we continue to ignore the fact that many other preferences are also discriminating, albeit they are less detrimental to contemporary society than racism?

The lack of attention to and in-depth discussions about various forms of discrimination reveal a single-minded understanding of problems on dating apps. Though the move to eliminate ethnic filters was a response to the Black Lives Matter movement, I find this action not intersectional enough. Black feminists (Collins, 2000, 2004; Crenshaw, 1991) have shown that oppression often comes from multiple directions based on various identities. The negligence of intersectional oppression may lead to the validation of discriminations other than racism, and exacerbate oppression on dating apps. What is worse, many people justify these discriminations by redeploying the discourses of ‘personal preferences’ and reproducing the remarginalization of certain dating app users. To reiterate, the problem is not that dating apps have not removed other filters all at once, but rather that they have turned a blind eye to multiple and intersectional oppressions in these digital spaces.

Concluding remarks: What is an inclusive dating app?

This paper offers a reflection on the detrimental impact on racial minority users of dating apps removing ethnicity filters. I argue that this move is inattentive to racial minorities’ alternative uses of filters for self-empowerment. It also contributes to generating a culture of compulsory interracial intimacy, which further marginalizes and displaces already disenfranchised minorities. The lack of an ethnicity filter makes it harder for racial minorities to connect, and more importantly, exposes them to more indifference, mistreatment, and fetishization on dating apps. It should be clear that at present, instances of interracial relationships are not necessarily a marker of racial equity. Preferences for people of their own races among racial minorities are also not always racist, because the intra-racial for them is, in many situations, a necessary expression of self-protection and self-valorization. Therefore, we cannot interpret all ‘personal preferences’ from a neoliberal angle. Moreover, insufficient discussions of other forms of discrimination on dating apps, and how to deal with these filters, demonstrate the dearth of understandings of intersectional oppressions that dating app users face.

In this light, this reflection prompts a more critical question: what is an inclusive dating app? I am not defending the necessity of ethnicity filters, as I acknowledge in this paper that filters embedded in digital infrastructure have indeed reproduced and reinforced social inequality. However, I would like to highlight that removing certain filters, or all filters, is not the ideal solution, because filters can be alternatively used to create connections and build communities to collectively combat discrimination, and grant underprivileged users additional sexual opportunities.

Therefore, rebuilding infrastructure that does not enable racism is critical, but another key to designing an inclusive app is being more attentive to racial minorities’ needs, rather than creating a utopian space that facilitates interracial intimacy recentered on whiteness. Because of the prevalence of racial fetishization on dating apps, enabling interracial intimacy does not necessarily benefit racial minorities. I contend that an inclusive app should afford racial minority users who have long experienced mistreatment with ways to locate other people in the marginalized positions, and establish meaningful connections. The possibility of pinpointing other minorities and establishing connections empowers racial minorities on dating apps, and enables them to find matches in a less alienating way. Thus, dating apps should leave the possibility for racial minorities to express intra-racial desires and preferences. Another facet of an inclusive app is being heedful of various forms of oppression that should also be tackled. Dating apps should limit expressions or overt discrimination that target bodies, age, and other factors. It is undeniable that facilitating equal sexual opportunities for all users is impossible, at least for now, as desire is the deepest (and often invisible) field where it is difficult to eradicate inequality. However, an inclusive dating app should address the needs of underprivileged users, rather than impose a utopian idea on all users and jeopardize racial minority users’ opportunities.