I’ve been single since my last relationship ended in February, and like many single lesbians, that means I’m back on Tinder. The dating app provides a way to expand my dating pool beyond the usual crop of friends, exes and friends of exes. But I had forgotten what it’s like to be a lesbian on America’s most popular dating app; in order to find dates, I have to wade through a veritable thicket of opposite-sex couples and cisgender men.

But why do men pop up in my feed of potential matches when my account is set to see women-identified profiles only? Anecdotally, I know I’m hardly alone — queer women and non-binary folks have spent years puzzling over the men that somehow slip through our Tinder settings. Yes, there are other dating apps, but Tinder is the one I’ve used the most, and the only one where I’ve had this happen consistently.

And I want it to be very clear that my discomfort on Tinder isn’t based in any kind of TERF (trans exclusionary radical feminist) ideology; I date trans and nonbinary people as well as cisgender women. But I don’t date straight, cisgender men or straight couples. To be honest, it creeps me out to know that men can see my profile (after all, Tinder is a two-way street). As a femme lesbian who is often mistaken for straight, I get enough unwanted attention from men. I shouldn’t have to market myself to them as a potential date when I very, very much don’t want to.

Being a generally curious journalist, I set out to solve the mystery. In July, I deleted my Tinder account and signed back up on the platform for an entirely fresh start. This was the only way to be absolutely sure I’d checked off all the settings properly, to rule out any mistakes on my end. While creating a new account, the app asked me to choose a gender (male or female were the only options and I chose female) and a sexual orientation (you could pick three; I went with lesbian, queer, and gay).

I reached a mildly confusing page that allowed me to pick a second gender identity (non-binary) and asked whether I wanted to be included in searches for men or women (I chose women). In settings, I was asked whether I wanted to be shown women, men, or everyone (I chose women, and clicked a button that said “show me people of the same orientation first” in order to hopefully weed out straight women and get right to my fellow queers). With all of these settings carefully selected, I figured I was in the clear.

I was wrong. I swiped left for days on opposite-sex couples preying on bisexual women and encountered numerous profiles for — you guessed it — straight, cisgender men. I would estimate that at least half of the profiles shown to me by the app were either couples or men: a shockingly high amount. Intrigued (and because I was working on this story), I began to swipe right on men and couples. I realized that most or all of these profiles had apparently already seen me; every time I swiped right on a cisgender man, it was an instant match. I was in their pool, like it or not. Creepy.

I’m in my 40s, which means I spent a good part of my youth in the lesbian bars of the U.S. that have largely disappeared. Encountering men and straight-ish couples in lesbian spaces is an all-too-familiar experience for me. Back in the bar days, men who hung around lesbian bars were referred to as “sharks” because of the way they seemed to circle drunk or lonely prey. Though some bars refused to let them in, other lesbian bars simply charged male patrons high door fees to make them pay for the privilege of gawking and stalking.

As a young femme dyke with long hair and painted fingernails, I hated having to navigate these encounters in what were supposed to be rare safe spaces. Coming to the bar to flirt with girls and trans guys, I didn’t want to have to feel the eyes of a straight man on me all night. It’s bad enough that feminine-looking women are so often mistaken for straight women, a phenomenon known as femme invisibility. Lesbian bars were supposed to be the one place where, just by entering the room, my queerness was undeniable.

Related

Today, the lesbian bars of yore have mostly shut down. Queer women (and their adjacent populations: non-binary folks and trans men) now meet each other mostly through dating apps and other platforms like the wildly popular Instagram account Personals. While Personals is launching its own app (currently in Beta testing), the app for queer women that seems to have attracted the most mainstream traction is HER. With limited options, queer women tend to scatter seeds across multiple platforms; I’ve known friends to use Tinder, HER, Bumble, and OK Cupid all at once while perusing the Personals feed too.

The lesbian world can feel tiny; while there is no reliable data on the number of LGBTQ people in the U.S. (we aren’t counted by the U.S. Census), a Gallup poll estimated that about 4 percent of American women identified as either lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender — meaning the numbers in each sub-group are smaller. And many in my community consistently struggle to meet potential dates that don’t already overlap with their social circles.

A study conducted by researchers from Queen Mary University of London, Sapienza University of Rome and the Royal Ottawa Health Care Group found that while 12 percent of male Tinder profiles identified users as gay or bisexual, only percent of women’s profiles identified users as anything other than straight. Though three years have since passed, I’m not convinced the numbers have significantly increased. In the weeks since restarting my Tinder profile, I’ve swiped until there are no new matches to swipe several times (I used the app in different cities while traveling).This sense of scarcity makes it all the more frustrating to encounter people you have no interest in dating.

Matching with men and couples would normally be annoying, but it was useful for this article. I messaged several couples to ask why they marked the gender of their profile as “woman,” and whether they were aware that creating an account as a couple violates Tinder’s “One Person, One Account” rule, which says “Tinder accounts cannot have multiple owners, so don’t create an account with your friend or significant other.” Not a single one of the couples responded. But some of the men I matched with did offer helpful feedback. When I asked “Harry,” who declined to be quoted outright for this story, whether he’d mistakenly set his gender to female, he said he had not. He claimed he was a straight man looking to date women and wasn’t sure why he’d shown up in my feed. But then he said something surprising: men also show up in his feed, even though his profile was set to seek women. Other men I matched with had clearly stated their gender as male right on their profile. To be clear, none of these men seemed to be transgender; in my experience as a person who has dated trans people, the majority of trans folks do identify themselves as such on dating apps.

I knew that most of my friends had encountered men and couples, but I also decided to ask my 16, Twitter followers in hopes of gathering a random sample. I got about 20 quotable responses from queer women, all of whom said they’ve encountered straight cis men in their Tinder feed and had puzzled over it. Many — including bisexual women — also expressed annoyance at couples who use the app to fish for queer women for threesomes.

“I only set to women. my results are an easy 40 percent straight couples looking for a unicorn or whatever. It disgusts me,” said Sara Gregory in response to the Twitter prompt. “Also would estimate about 10 percent of profiles I see are cis men when set to only women.”

“My settings are set to only show me women, but I still see men almost every time I log in,” said Mari Brighe on Twitter. “Also, it seems like there are AT LEAST as many unicorn-hunting couples profiles as queer women’s profiles. It’s ridiculously frustrating.”

Conspiracy theories have proliferated, with some queer women guessing straight men are switching their genders to try to pick up lesbians. Or maybe some guys are just too dumb to properly set up a dating profile.

So was this the result of men misusing the platform? Was it a bug? Was it a feature? Over the course of three separate phone calls with Tinder representatives who spoke exclusively on background, I was repeatedly assured that what I described was nearly impossible. The conversations left me feeling even more confused and frustrated. Tinder wasn’t purposefully blocking me, but neither did it seem like the app understood why the onslaught of men and couples makes queer women so uncomfortable, or how the rampant sexualization of lesbians that can turn predatory and dangerous at times.

In the end, Tinder gave me a statement on the record that framed the whole thing as an inclusion issue.

"Tinder is the most used app by LGBTQ women and we are proud to serve this community. Inclusion is a core value and we are constantly working to optimize the user experience,” said a Tinder spokesperson. “We have identified that, sometimes, users may either purposely or inadvertently change their gender and consequently, are shown to users seeking other matches. The only way to prevent this from happening would be to restrict users from changing their gender, which is not a product change we are willing to make."

Related

At the end of the day, my Great Tinder Experiment mainly reinforced the frustrations queer women feel when attempting to find safe dating spaces. Despite bringing the issue to Tinder’s attention — a privilege I was able to attain through my platform as a journalist — there is still no foreseeable way to avoid cisgender men and couples on the app. The experience has made me all the more hungry for the forthcoming Personals app, which creator Kelly Rakowski said in a interview will allow queer women to filter matches according to the identifiers that are significant in our community.

Rakowski aims to create a dating app that will let users search, for example, for a "butch bottom" in the New England area or a "switchy trans femme" in Seattle. That kind of cultural sensitivity is what seems to be missing from most dating apps that weren’t created with queer users in mind. Perhaps the lesson is this: Until queers are at the helm of the companies that craft the tech tools we use every day, those tools won’t be able to fully serve our needs.

Mary Emily O'Hara

Mary Emily O'Hara is the rapid response manager at GLAAD. Previously, their news and culture writing has been published by Adweek, Into, Them, NBC News, MSNBC, Daily Dot and Vice, among others.

Kadakia's parents immigrated to the U.S. in the 70s, taking a huge risk to follow their dreams and opportunities.

"My parents never wanted me to have to go through any type of struggle, any type of hardship that they went through. So, they trained me in a way to be a bit more risk averse. And what that meant was making sure I had stability, good career, good education, good foundation," said Kadakia.

Kadakia had a passion for Indian dance that kept her connected to her culture. Where she grew up, there weren't many people that looked like her outside of her dance classes. For her it was a transformative experience.

"While I struggled to fit in, I think I also found beauty in who I was through being around this other group of people who did look like me. And where all of us could be together on Saturday and Sunday mornings," said Kadakia.

After graduating college and living in New York City, Kadakia decided to take her own calculated risk when she started ClassPass. Her idea was to create a show from a person dance company she’d founded shortly after finishing college, but she had no idea if the idea would work.

Kadakia rented out the space, but had no idea if people would show up. On opening night, the show was sold out. Lines of people sat along the side of the walls since there weren't enough seats.

"When everyone gave us a standing ovation, at the end of that show, I felt very confident and I knew that I should really be going towards these feelings that my heart is telling me. That these things that I feel are really what my gift is," said Kadakia.

That success inspired her to take ClassPass beyond dance. It’s since become known as a fitness and wellness platform with classes and gyms around the world.

Kadakia said her experience has taught her to think of hobbies as something more than side projects.

"That's the crux of why I started ClassPass,” she said. “I just felt that we shouldn't ever give up on these things. And people call them hobbies, or whatever they might be, but they feed our soul, it's not about our age at all."

Hear more of the Behind Her Empire podcast. Subscribe on Stitcher, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, iHeart Radio or wherever you get your podcasts.

alovex.co Audience Engagement Fellow Joshua Letona contributed to this post.

Content warning: this article includes discussions of transphobia and references to suicide.

If one more cisgender person tells me how good Hinge is, I’m going to scream. 

They mean well, of course. They’ve had positive experiences and they want to share them with me, the nearest single person in their vicinity. But their experiences of Hinge and my experience of Hinge are very different, and there’s nothing I can do about that. 

Dating apps can be unpleasant even under the best conditions. When you’re basically online shopping for people, there’s always the possibility of a bad fit. Like most things, though, it’s even more difficult when you’re transgender. People say ignorant things – and they say deliberately offensive things – and that’s before we get to the problems with the apps themselves. 

Since the start of the pandemic, more people are using Tinder, Hinge and Bumble than ever before; Tinder alone saw a record three billion swipes on a single day in March last year. But are the experiences of trans users getting any better? Depressingly, no, not really. 

Unsurprisingly, Grindr is the worst offender. Requests for nudes and generally degrading comments are par for the course there, but every now and then something more sinister emerges. I’ve been using the platform for long enough that I can usually tell who’s going to turn out to be a transphobe from just the way they say hello, but sometimes you feel like you should give them the benefit of the doubt. This is always a mistake. 

One user I engaged with despite my initial misgivings couldn’t understand why I, a queer trans man, would say on my profile that I wasn’t interested in straight guys. 

“Surely a gay guy wouldn’t want that?” he asked, somehow managing to not only put every gay man into one box, but also forget that bisexual, pansexual and queer men exist. 

“Well, some people have more expansive definitions of what a man is than you,” I responded. 

This was about the point when he started to verbally abuse me, in a way that was so exaggeratedly transphobic that I actually started to laugh. It isn’t funny really, but sometimes it also is. His parting shot was to describe what he saw as the manner and location of my eventual suicide – the way we all go, according to him. 

The irony is that this guy, knowing I was trans, had already said he wanted to sleep with me. The Venn diagram between these men and the kind of men who ask girls for nudes, then call them ugly skanks when they refuse, is a circle. 

It’s not just bigotry that’s the issue. For many non-binary users, or anyone else whose gender doesn’t fit neatly into 'man’ or ‘woman’, some of the problems are structural. When Tinder introduced more gender identity and sexuality options in , it seemed like a step in the right direction. But it turns out these options are a set of stairs leading nowhere. While both Tinder and Hinge now allow users to select their gender from a wider range including non-binary and genderqueer, once those have been entered you’re presented with another, much more restrictive choice. 

“Show me to people looking for…” says the screen, and then "men" or "women." Are you a boy they/them or a girl they/them? 

Andrew, a non-binary person who uses dating apps, has experienced this on several platforms. “As someone who identifies as ‘both’ genders, it’s a nightmare trying to work out what category to put yourself in,” they say. “You have to pick whether you want to be shown to people who are looking for men or women. So that’s a toss-up, trying to work out what group of people I’m trying to attract.”

Another non-binary user, Neve, tells me: “The thing that sucks the most about Tinder is that people are organised by gender rather than by sexuality. Even before I started identifying as non-binary, as a queer person I had a strong preference for dating queer people of my gender. I stopped dating straight people in the s. And on Tinder you can’t filter out straight people.”

This was a common theme I found when speaking to other trans and non-binary people about their experiences: it’s difficult to meet other trans and non-binary users. OkCupid was once the leader of the pack for this, but in recent years it has started to slip, pivoting towards a more swipe-based design and away from browsable profiles. Then there’s the text-based personals app Lex, which caters exclusively to queer women and people of marginalised genders but can still feel closed-off to some transmasculine people. It can be disheartening as a masculine-identifying person to feel that the only place you’re welcome is one primarily made for women.  

Depressingly, one of the better platforms for trans people looking to meet other trans people is Grindr, allowing you to filter by ‘tribe’ – but then we’re back to the bigots again. So what’s the solution? For many trans people, the ideal would be an app truly made for queer and trans people. Surely that’s not so much to ask?

In the meantime, though, the power to improve things lies with other users. There are already plenty of things to worry about when we’re swiping – what if, for example, your match really, really likes The Big Bang Theory for some reason? We shouldn’t have to worry about transphobic abuse as well. 

Illustration by Ida Henrich

I saw M on Feeld about a month after I had ended my last relationship. I had been on Feeld on and off for about 6 months before I met M. I had only met up with maybe one or two other people before them, but I didn't find exactly what I was looking for until then.

In M's bio, they listed that they are non-binary, chicanx and an ethical non-monogamist – all green flags for me as a Latinx gender queer who ended my last relationship because I couldn't bear being confined by the expectations of monogamy. We messaged for a few days about being Latinx and our mutual interest in punk music within our community. At this point, I found them devilishly attractive, but my intention was to make a friend. I don't have any Latinx enby friends in my circle so I was in desperate need of someone who understood me on a level even my best friends could never understand.

I asked if they wanted to get a drink with me and they agreed. We met up at a bar and we were making jokes and laughing within the first two minutes of meeting. We talked about our experience growing up in Latinx communities and how our queerness was (and continues) to be an obstacle when we navigate certain interactions and environments. They validated me in my budding reconnection with my culture and they made me feel safe. After a couple of drinks, we started making out at the bar and continued to do so outside the bar. They took the lead in a way that I had previously been used to doing when dating women/queer femmes. It was nice to embrace a more submissive side of me that had been dormant from trying to play up the more masculine side of me to attract the typical cisgender woman. They had a guest staying with them that night, so we decided to meet up another night to have sex.

The first time M and I had sex, they looked up at me and said ‘you don't fuck me like a woman’. It was something that I wasn't even conscious of – I was only playing off of them. I think that's the difference between hooking up with a cisgender person and hooking up with a queer person; the commonality between gender-queer people makes all the difference in such an intimate setting which could ultimately be dysphoric for someone. The boundaries can be as fluid or as rigid as you both mutually agree they should be, which is something I personally haven't always found in having sex with cisgender women.

Since that first meeting, M and I still regularly see each other. Since they identify as a relationship anarchist and specifically solo non-monogamous, we don't consider ourselves each other's partner. We enjoy our time together by going on dates, having exploratory sex and talking shit about the bad dates we’ve been on with other people. There is no expectation of a ‘next step’ for us and that takes a lot of pressure off of us, allowing us to just experience each other without looking at each other through any particular lens. In the future, I want a primary partner and to get married, but I know M won't be that person in my life. I think we both know, however, that we'll be in each other's lives for a very long time regardless of what form our relationship takes in the future.

I would like to tell people who are curious about using Feeld that it is the most inclusive app and has the most diverse community of users I have come across on all the other dating/hookup apps that I've used. People are there to make connections ranging from the kinky to the wholesome. There is something and someone for everyone on Feeld and the app's interface and culture lends itself to anyone looking for anything. You can make your own journey and experience on Feeld.

FOR QUEER, TRANS,
GENDER NON-CONFORMING,
TWO SPIRIT, & NON-BINARY PPL.
FOR MEETING LOVERS & FRIENDS.

For iOSFor Android

Lex is the text-centered social app that connects queer lovers and friends.

Lex is short for lexicon. Text first, selfies second.

Lex adheres to a zero tolerance policy towards creeps: no transphobia, no racism, no fatphobia, no ableism. No hate speech of any kind. We reserve the right to delete posts for any reason. A healthy, loving community is our top priority.

Herstory of Lex

Lex (formerly known as PERSONALS) was inspired by the personal ads in On Our Backs, a women-run erotica magazine of the ’80s and ’90s. The personals were written by lesbians and detailed their desires and romantic requirements.

Lex app will evolve in response to what works best for our community. Please email any comments, ideas for features, questions, and concerns to hello@alovex.co

Follow @alovex.co on Instagram

Photography by Em Gallagher,

Dating app for lesbian, queer, bisexual and straight women and non-binary people

Her, formerly Dattch, is a geosocial networking app geared towards lesbian, queer, bisexual and straight women and non-binary people.^[1] It is available for iOS and Android.^[2][3]

Users can join the app with their Facebook account or email address. Cisgender men are not allowed to create profiles on the platform.^[4] As of May , the application is available in 55 countries.^[5][6]

The app was founded by Robyn Exton and launched in September ^[7]

Investors[edit]

In March , Her (then Dattch) received €40, in funding upon joining the start-up incubatorWayra Academy, owned by Telefonica.^[8]

In September , the application raised £, from three investors including founder of W3 Ltd, Yannick Pons and Investor & Chairman of YPlan Andy Phillipps.^[9]

In March , Dattch received a US$25, investment prize after being awarded with Best Design at 's LAUNCH Festival.^[10]

In March , after $1 million in funding from investors such as Alexis Ohanian, and Garry Tan and Michael Birch from Y Combinator, Dattch was renamed to Her.^[11]

Reception[edit]

Her has been well received by LGBTQ communities. In ReadWrite's article, "Why Queer Women Need Their Own Dating App," Dattch was called "one of its kind" and "the app queer women have been waiting for."^[12] Lesbian news portal Autostraddle said, "it is a pleasure seeing technology created with women’s needs being considered so carefully."^[13]

Cultural references[edit]

Her appeared in the Channel 4 documentary, How to Be a Young Billionaire, which televised in the UK in

See also[edit]

References[edit]

Yeah, yeah, dating apps are veritable cess pits of human garbage, I know - and that's if you can actually get replies from people. But when you're lesbian, bisexual, queer, trans, non-binary, pansexual, any LGBTQIA+ identity, dating apps can connect you to people you might not encounter in your day to day life. And they can be a lifeline. So here are the best lesbian dating apps that any queer woman or non-binary person can use.

Of course, most dating apps aren't built with us lot in mind. Nope, they're mainly for the straights. So, shortly after becoming single, I took it upon myself to test a variety of queer-specific and mainstream dating apps to see just how good they are for LGBTQ+ people.

Lesbian dating apps for queer womxn

alovex.co

Her says, "From lesbians to queers, bois, to femmes, trans to fluid, and everyone in between, HER is here for you."

Just how inclusive is it? Promising "there's a community for everyone on Her", the app connects people of varying LGBTQ+ identities with friends and dates. So yeah, pretty inclusive.

What makes it different? It currently has 4 million users and claims to be the largest free dating site for LGBTQ+ women and non-binary people. That's a lot of people.

Cost:Free and upgrade versions are available. A basic account that lets you like and message people is free. And you can upgrade for the ability to see who is online now, and to filter potential matches by sexuality (rude).

The verdict: 3/5

It's a little clunky and confusing to use compared to the likes of Tinder, but it's a hell of a lot more inclusive in terms of sexualities and gender identities represented. I felt like no one really messaged though, and the UX experience was all kinds of annoying. But maybe I'm just an undesirable technophobe

Download on Apple App Store, or Google Play.

2. Bumble

Bumble says, "There’s no equality without respect, and that’s where all healthy relationships start. To challenge outdated heterosexual norms, women make the first move on Bumble."

Just how inclusive is it? When you get started, you can choose between being shown "men", "women" and "everyone". Once you set up your profile, there are tons of gender identity options. You can also decide whether you are shown to users looking for women, or looking for men. You can also choose not to display your gender identity.

What makes it different? The whole premise of the app is that women can message men first. So if you're an LGBTQ+ woman or femme, wanting to meet women or femmes, this feature is kind of redundant.

Cost:Free and upgrade versions are available.

The verdict: 2/5

I was definitely shown way more cis men than anyone of any other gender. In the end, I switched it to women only, because, well, straight men. I ran out of women and non-binary people very quickly. And I live in London (in Hackney - aka the queerest borough) for goodness sake.

Download on Apple App Store, or Google Play.

3. Hinge

Hinge says, "Hinge is the dating app for people who want to get off dating apps. And it’s working. Currently, 3 out of 4 first dates lead to second dates."

Just how inclusive is it? This app certainly wasn't designed specifically with LGBTQ+ people in mind, but in recent years it's become more inclusive. You can register your gender as woman, cisgender woman, intersex woman and trans woman (and the same options pop up under man). And the only options for your sexuality are "interested in men", "interested in women" or "interested in everyone". There are also options under non-binary, such as gender nonconforming and non-gendered.

What makes it different?As well as the usual height and age range filters, you can also specify where you want kids, take drugs, smoke and what your political leanings are. Instead of swiping based purely on pictures, users fill in answers to a number of set questions. You have to like something specific on their profile, which then gives them the next "move" aka chance to respond to you. This is to encourage conversation, rather than mindless liking that never comes to anything.

Cost: Free and upgrade versions are available.

The verdict: 5/5

I was kind of into it! There were loads of people on the app I probably would have matched with based on their aesthetic (I'm a sucker for a fringe and a nose ring, sue me!), but seeing their answers made me realise it would never work out *cough* Tories. It saved me a lot of time. Plus, there was loads of queer womxn on there.

Download on Apple App Store and Google Play.

4. Tinder

Tinder says, "Tinder makes being single more fun and rewarding by connecting people who may not have otherwise met in real life. We celebrate that being single is a journey. And a great one. Being single isn’t the thing you do, unhappily, before you settle down. We stand up for how a whole generation chooses to live their lives."

Just how inclusive is it?I found I could only register as a man or a woman, which enraged me. But then I messaged Tinder all angry, and they were like, 'No hun, go into your settings'. And it turns out, if you dig deeper you can actually pick from 72 options. It's not super-easy to find, so FYI: Under 'edit info', scroll down to 'Gender/I am' and click on 'More' underneath male and female. You can then search words and it should come up with all the options. In terms of which profiles you're shown, the options are "show me men" or "show me women", however you can toggle both.

What makes it different?It's the most popular dating app for a reason. It's super easy to use, and you can connect your Spotify and Instagram which enables low-key snooping on potential dates. Plus, there are just so many people on there.

Cost: Free and upgrade versions are available.

The verdict: 4/5

The best thing about Tinder is just how many people and potential matches you get, especially compared to the baron, queer-less wasteland of Bumble. Say what you want about Tinder being a hot bed for people looking for a hookup (nothing wrong with that, mind you!) but the first person I went on a date with on here became my girlfriend. So

Download on Apple App Store and Google Play.

5. Feeld

Feeld says, "A dating app for open-minded couples and singles. Discover a space where you can explore your desires and find your people. Join solo or pair up with a partner, a lover or a curious friend."

Just how inclusive is it?Ever so! The sexuality and gender options are never-ending, and as specific or vague as you want them to be. Truly inspirational, all apps should be like this. And you can specify your kinks, fantasies, and exactly what you are looking for on the app.

What makes it different?It hooks you up with sex-positive people who want everything from threesomes to long-term love, and who are up front and honest about it. That's more than most apps can say, right?

Cost?Free and upgrade versions are available.

The verdict: 4/5

I love the ethos of the app, and everything it stands for. I did however, find navigating it a little trickier than usual. It's not as smooth as Tinder or Bumble, that's for sure. I ended up using to find myself a threesome, because apparently I am a giant bisexual cliché and have always wanted to be a straight couples' 'unicorn'. Within a few weeks I'd found a couple I was into, and the rest was history.

Download on Apple App Store and Google Play.

6. Scissr

Scissr says, "It's time for a dating app where LGBTQ+ women can connect, share, and chat about their local cultural interests and relationship needs. Designed by lesbians for lesbians desiring to increase their connections with other amazing women. Scissr is tailor made for all – dyke, queer, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and bi-curious."

Just how inclusive is it?Although it claims to be for all LGBTQ+ women, the app constantly refers to 'lesbians' which is a little jarring. Their whole thing is that the app is "without dudes" but I'm not sure where this leaves trans men and trans masculine people, Also the name, which FYI is play on the word scissor, aka a hugely debated sex position in the community, is a bit of a head scratcher.

What makes it different?Scissr positions itself as the Grindr for women, which to be quite honest, sounds ideal for those who are looking for hookups. You can add a bio of words, and upload multiple pictures, as well as setting preferences for what you're looking for - friendship, hookups, and more.

Cost?Free.

The verdict: 2/5

Honestly, I just can't get over the name and logo. Users have complained about not being notified when they receive messages, not having many people in their area, and messages not being archived.

Download on Apple App Store and Google Play.

7. Fem

Fem says, "Meet hot single girls near you. Fem Lesbian Dating app is a great way to meet eligible lesbians."

Just how inclusive is it? I mean, the above sounds like a porn site pop up. And the language used to market the app implies it's mainly for lesbians. But there are gender options and queer womxn of all gender presentations (not just femmes, as the name might suggest) are welcome.

What makes it different?Fem is all about video. Users are encouraged to upload a video introducing themselves, explaining who they are and what they're looking for. It feels a lot more personal. You can also group chat with people in your area, which is cute!

Cost? Free with in-app purchases from 77p.

The verdict: 1/5

There are a lot of complaints about fake accounts, bots and worse: cis straight men on the app. Users complain about an apparent lack of verification process, meaning a bunch of cis men claiming to be cis women pop up.

Download on Google Play.

8. Lesly

Lesly says, "A great community for lesbians, bisexual and queer women to chat, date and hookup with other LGBTQ singles in their area or around the world. As a new and exciting lesbian dating service in the field, Lesly is the most trusted and secure place for gay women to connect, get to know and even fall in love with each other. Whether you are looking for a serious relationship, or just searching for a blind date, meet up, hookup, even FWB, NSA fun with other adult lesbians, Lesly has them all!"

Just how inclusive is it? It was made by a group of 'lesbian dating experts' so that's a start!

What makes it different?Unlike some of the other apps, Lesly claims to put all profiles through a rigorous verification process to weed out any scammers or fakers. Apart from that, it doesn't look very different to other apps and it works in a very similar way to Tinder.

Cost? Free version and monthly subscriptions from $

The verdict: 2/5

Users say the free version is pretty useless, so if you want to be able to use the app to the best of its ability, you have to pay. But, they also say they love the clean interface, and that's it's super easy to use. I guess it depends how much you're willing to spend.

Download on Apple and Google Play.

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Content warning: this article includes discussions of transphobia and references to suicide.

If one more cisgender person tells me how good Hinge is, non binary dating app, I’m going to scream. 

They mean well, of course. They’ve had positive experiences and they want to share them with me, the nearest single person in their vicinity. But their experiences of Hinge and my experience of Hinge are very different, and there’s nothing I can do about that. 

Dating apps can be unpleasant even under the best conditions. When you’re basically online shopping for people, there’s always the possibility of a bad fit, non binary dating app. Like most things, though, it’s even more difficult when you’re transgender. People say ignorant things – and they say deliberately offensive things – and that’s before we get to the problems with the apps themselves. 

Since the start of the pandemic, more people are using Tinder, Hinge and Bumble than ever before; Tinder alone saw a record three billion swipes on a single day in March last year, non binary dating app. But are the experiences of trans users getting any better? Depressingly, no, not really. 

Unsurprisingly, Grindr is the worst offender. Requests for nudes and generally degrading comments are par for the course there, but every now and then something more sinister emerges. I’ve been using the platform for long enough that I can usually tell who’s going to turn out to be a transphobe from just the way they say hello, but sometimes you feel like you should give them the benefit of the doubt. This is always a mistake. 

One user I engaged with despite my initial misgivings couldn’t understand why I, a queer trans man, would say on my profile that I wasn’t interested in straight guys. 

“Surely a gay guy wouldn’t want that?” he asked, somehow managing to not only put every gay man into one box, but also forget that bisexual, pansexual and queer men exist. 

“Well, some people have more expansive definitions of what a man is than you,” I responded. 

This was about the point when he started to verbally abuse me, in a way that was so exaggeratedly transphobic that I actually started to laugh. It isn’t funny really, but sometimes it also is. His parting shot was to describe what he saw as the manner and location of my eventual suicide – the way we all go, according to him. 

The irony is that this guy, knowing I was trans, had already said he wanted to sleep with me. The Venn diagram between these men and the kind of men who ask girls for nudes, then call them ugly skanks when they refuse, is a circle. 

It’s not just bigotry that’s the issue. For many non-binary users, or anyone else whose gender doesn’t fit neatly into 'man’ or non binary dating app, some of the problems are structural. When Tinder introduced more gender identity and sexuality options init seemed like a step in the right direction. But it turns out these options are a set of stairs leading nowhere. While both Tinder and Hinge now allow users to select their gender from a wider range including non-binary and genderqueer, once those have been entered you’re presented with another, much more restrictive choice. 

“Show me to people looking for…” says the screen, and then "men" or "women." Are you a boy they/them or a girl they/them? 

Andrew, a non-binary person who uses dating apps, has experienced this on several platforms. “As someone who identifies as ‘both’ genders, it’s a non binary dating app trying to work out what category to put yourself in,” they say. “You have to pick whether you want to be shown to people who are looking for men or women. So that’s a toss-up, trying to work out non binary dating app group of people I’m trying to attract.”

Another non-binary user, Neve, tells me: “The thing that sucks the most about Tinder is that people are organised by gender rather than by sexuality. Even before I started identifying as non-binary, as a queer person I had a strong preference for dating queer people of my gender. I stopped dating straight people in the s. And non binary dating app Tinder you can’t filter out straight people.”

This was a common theme I found when speaking to other trans and non-binary people about their experiences: it’s difficult to meet non binary dating app trans and non-binary users. OkCupid was once the leader of the pack for this, but in recent years it has started to slip, pivoting towards a more swipe-based design and away from browsable profiles. Then there’s the text-based personals non binary dating app Lex, which caters exclusively to queer women and people of marginalised genders but can still feel closed-off to some transmasculine people. It can be disheartening as a masculine-identifying person to feel that the only place you’re welcome is one primarily made for women.  

Depressingly, one of the better platforms for trans people looking to meet other trans people is Grindr, allowing you to filter by ‘tribe’ – but then we’re back is it wrong dating an older woman? the bigots again. So what’s the solution? For many trans people, non binary dating app, the ideal would be an app truly made for queer and trans people. Surely that’s not so much to ask?

In the meantime, though, the power to improve things lies with other users. There are already plenty of things to worry about when we’re swiping – what if, for example, your match really, really likes The Big Bang Theory for some reason? We shouldn’t have to worry about transphobic abuse as well. 

Illustration by Ida Henrich

Kadakia's parents immigrated to the U.S. in the 70s, taking a huge risk to follow their dreams and opportunities.

"My parents never wanted me to have to go through jewish online dating type of struggle, any type of hardship that they went through. So, they trained me in a way to be a bit more risk averse. And what that meant was making sure I had stability, good career, good education, good foundation," said Kadakia.

Kadakia had a passion for Indian dance that kept her connected to her culture. Where she grew up, non binary dating app, there weren't many people that looked like her outside of her dance classes. For her it was a transformative experience.

"While I struggled to fit in, I think I also found beauty in who I was through being around this other group of people who did look like me. And where all of us could be together on Saturday and Sunday mornings," said Kadakia.

After graduating college and living in New York City, Kadakia decided to take her own calculated risk when she started ClassPass. Her idea was to create a show from a person dance company she’d founded shortly after finishing college, but she had no idea if the idea would work.

Kadakia rented out the space, but had no idea if people would show up. On opening night, non binary dating app, the show was sold out. Lines of people sat along the side of the walls since there weren't enough seats.

"When everyone gave us a standing ovation, at the end of that show, non binary dating app, I felt very confident and I knew that I should really be going towards these feelings that my heart is telling me. That these things that I feel are really what my gift is," said Kadakia.

That success inspired her to take ClassPass beyond dance. It’s since become known as a fitness and wellness platform with classes and gyms around the world.

Kadakia said her experience has taught her to think of hobbies as something more than side non binary dating app the crux of why I started ClassPass,” she said. “I just felt that we shouldn't ever give up on these things. And people call them hobbies, or non binary dating app they might be, but they feed our soul, it's not about our age at all."

Hear more of the Behind Her Empire podcast. Subscribe on non binary dating app, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, iHeart Radio or wherever you get your podcasts.

alovex.co Audience Engagement Fellow Joshua Letona contributed to this post.

Recently, we received an email with some constructive feedback from a kind user who was LGBT. She expressed concerns about the queer friendliness of our app. 

We&#;re a really different kind of dating app and there are many things we do that are not orthodox. For example, non binary dating app, we monetize on travel bookings (suspended due to covid and Apple). We charge a small entrance fee to keep our community safe from bots and scammers, non binary dating app. We humanize online dating by limiting your active matches to We encourage you to explore the world by recommending places and adventures for you and your match to discover together. We are also a friendship-making app.

Some have called Fairytrail the most wholesome dating app ever. 

But how are we supporting LGBT and gender fluidity? 

Non-binary Genders

Non-binary is used to describe people who feel their gender cannot be defined within the margins of gender binary. They understand their gender in a way that goes beyond simply identifying as either a man or woman. 

On Fairytrail, you can only choose man or woman at the moment. The reason is all users who use Fairytrail must choose a character. Choosing a character ties to a core Fairytrail mission to make dating less superficial. We want to capture and elevate personality in online dating.

It&#;s impossible to delineate a person who has needs, values, views, traits, preferences, and temperaments (often which are changing) in just an online profile. Even dating for six weeks can only reveal so much.

That&#;s why most people are so focused on looks because photos can depict it so well. (We made a video about it.) 

That said, we are doing better than most dating apps when it comes to making online dating less superficial. We leverage these characters to give insights into someone&#;s personality and identity.

All characters are mapped to MBTI and Enneagram types. If you don&#;t know anything about personality MBTI, these archetypes can still give you cues on people&#;s personality and identity. 

We haven&#;t quite cracked how to do this with fairytale characters yet, and as a startup, we have limited Product, Design, and Engineering resources to tackle this. If this is an area you feel passionate about, please do reach out to us at team@alovex.co

Any help would greatly be appreciated! For example, which characters should we use? What should be the search mapping? Would you be okay with your sexual preferences displayed on your profile?

Alternatively, it would be super fun to create just a non-binary or LGBT version of Fairytrail. We&#;ve also gotten many requests for us to make a friends only version and a couples version. There are so many traveling couples! Sadly, we haven&#;t had the resources to work on those either. 

LGBT

LGBT describe people’s sexual orientation or gender identity, non binary dating app. LGBT includes lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender.

U.S. adults estimate that nearly one in four Americans (%) are gay or lesbian, and the latest study find an estimated % of adults in the United States identify as LGBT.

Historically on most dating apps, they ask you what&#;s your sexual orientation. 

On Fairytrail, LGBT sexual preferences are supported behind the scenes. 

No need to tell us your sexual orientation, non binary dating app. We can easily infer this based on your search preferences and only show you someone who might like you back. For example, if you&#;re a homosexual female, you would be seen only by homosexual and bisexual females.

Fairytrail Sexual Preferences Matrix

We try to save people&#;s time, so try to optimize where we can and don&#;t like explicitly asking for things we can infer. 

So we fully support LGBT and if you have suggestions for improving our LGBT friendliness or want to help, please get in touch with us! We&#;re always looking to improve.

That said, non binary dating app, I do recognize there is a liquidity problem for the LGBT user segment. Some of our few 1-star reviews are regarding not getting enough matches as a queer person. We are working hard to grow awareness for Fairytrail. As we get more awareness and users, non binary dating app, the smaller 5% LGBT segment will get more matches.

Help us grow and we will win together. 

FOR QUEER, TRANS,
GENDER NON-CONFORMING,
TWO SPIRIT, & NON-BINARY PPL.
FOR MEETING LOVERS & FRIENDS.

For iOSFor Android

Lex is the text-centered social app that connects queer lovers and friends.

Lex is short for lexicon. Text first, selfies second.

Lex adheres to a zero tolerance policy towards creeps: no transphobia, no racism, no fatphobia, no ableism. No hate speech of any kind. We reserve the right to delete posts for any reason. A healthy, loving community is our top priority.

Herstory of Lex

Lex (formerly known as PERSONALS) was inspired by the personal ads in Forbes online dating Our Backs, a women-run erotica magazine of the ’80s and ’90s. The personals were written by lesbians and detailed their desires and romantic requirements.

Lex app will evolve in response to what works best for our community. Please email any comments, ideas for features, questions, and concerns to hello@alovex.co

Follow @alovex.co on Instagram

Photography by Em Gallagher,

Mort is the former director of design for dating app Hinge; Battersby was previously Bumble’s director of APAC marketing, making them perfectly suited to kickstarting a social media app. They are defying the opinion of some people around them, who suggest the risk is too high and will ruin their careers. 

The team, both from Sydney, started working on Sunroom in and in early began building the app with the help of advisers and early adopters, non binary dating app, non binary dating app iterating and making improvements, non binary dating app. They were determined to break away from the pack and create an app that helped women post what they wanted while being rewarded for nurturing a community and making authentic connections. 

Hinged on the creator economy, making content for social media isn’t free or easy. Anti-racism advocate and adviser to Sunroom, Alyssa Ho, said recently in an interview with Refinery29: “I don’t think people understand the amount of time, emotional labour, energy, non binary dating app, education, and emotional and mental toll it can take on creators to pour themselves into their work, especially when it comes to the advocacy realm, non binary dating app any sort of recognition, gratitude or compensation…It’s very much a ‘take’ approach rather than a meaningful one.”

Creators can now be compensated and supported for non binary dating app efforts. In a recent Instagram post, Sunroom shared, “Women and non-binary creators produce the most sought after content on the internet. Yet, it feels like every time we put ourselves out there to make money, we’re judged for asking to be paid.”

To gain access to all content by a Sunroom creator, viewers sign up to the creator&#;s monthly subscription through a free or paid model. A paying member can unlock posts, non binary dating app, send unlimited direct messages to the creator and comment on creator’s posts to their heart’s content. The free membership grants viewers access to public posts; however, when you want to unlock private content, ‘cheer’ or direct message a creator, it’s a one-off transaction using Beams, Sunroom’s in-app currency. 

While the monetisation aspect plays a vital part in the app and its future, so does the name. During an interview with The Latch, Mort said, “We want people to think of how it feels to be in a Sunroom: warm, non binary dating app, and fully seen. We want people to think of a progressive, unfiltered, entrepreneurial, and comfy space where women and non-binary creators ​​are doing whatever the hell they want, however they want to do it, and stacking their cash in the process.” 

Sunroom sets up creators for success, it also prevents them from experiencing some of social media’s most toxic traits. 

The SPF difference

The app offers a high level of protection to its creators. SunBlock is Sunroom’s industry-first non binary dating app and anti-screen recording technology. Ensuring all content posted on the app stays in the app, providing a safe environment for creators. 

“All the content is progressively moderated through a women’s lens and we have industry-first safety features, including ‘SunBlock’, which is our anti-screenshot technology – along with zero-tolerance for bullying, harassment, non binary dating app, or hate speech – so creators can express themselves without fear,” Mort explained. 

The app launched with creators and four human moderators. As more creators sign up to Sunroom, they’ll go through an application process to be approved. The team never automates a decision that affects non binary dating app livelihood of a creator. 

Social media platforms such as Facebook, Twitter and YouTube rely heavily on automated tools to moderate content online. Machine learning algorithms flag content deemed objectionable to reduce the non binary dating app of trauma caused to content moderation workers. However, automating content moderation is a risk in itself, as it has been programmed to identify certain content, which may be silencing freedom of expression online.

Sunroom is a solution for creators who stand for something and are passionate about sharing their experience, advice, and expertise. It’s the next phase of social media engagement, where people are authentic and raw. It’s a designated platform for creators to be compensated and connect deeply one-on-one with people who resonate with their views and content. 

“There is definitely a social movement occuring at the moment, particularly with Gen Z — they’re more sex-positive, they’re more self-expressive and I think they’re becoming tired of being silenced or censored online when they speak about issues or causes that are important to them,” Battersby said. 

It may seem that the social media landscape is too saturated to compete with those who have been around for over a decade. But we’re in an non binary dating app where existing platforms no longer appeal to under-represented genders and groups. The focus on health and wellbeing is a priority and apps such as Sunroom are ensuring content creators and their fans maintain that in their lives.

I saw M on Feeld about a month after I had non binary dating app my last relationship. I had been on Feeld on and off for about 6 months before I met M. I had only met up with maybe one or two other people before them, but I didn't find exactly what I was looking for until then.

In Non binary dating app bio, they listed that they are non-binary, chicanx and an ethical non-monogamist – all green flags for me as a Latinx gender queer who ended my last relationship because I couldn't bear being confined by the expectations of monogamy. We messaged for a few days about being Latinx and our mutual interest in punk non binary dating app within our community. At this point, I found them devilishly attractive, but my intention was to make a friend. I don't have any Latinx enby friends in my circle so I was in desperate need of someone who understood me on a level even my best friends could never understand.

I asked if they wanted to get a drink with me and they agreed. We met up at a bar and we were making jokes non binary dating app laughing within the first two minutes of meeting. We talked about our experience growing up in Latinx communities and how our queerness was (and continues) to be an obstacle when we navigate certain interactions and environments. They validated me in my budding reconnection with my culture and they made me feel safe. After a couple of drinks, non binary dating app, we started making out at the bar and continued to do so outside the bar. They took the lead in a way that I had previously been used to doing when dating women/queer femmes. It was nice to embrace a more submissive side of me that had been dormant from trying to play up the more masculine side of me to attract the typical cisgender woman. They had a guest staying with them that night, so we decided to meet up another night to have sex.

The first time M and I had sex, they looked up at me and said ‘you don't fuck me like a woman’. It was something non binary dating app I wasn't even conscious of – I was only playing off of them. I think that's the difference between hooking up with a cisgender person and hooking up with a queer person; the commonality between gender-queer people makes all the difference in such an intimate setting which could ultimately be dysphoric for someone. The boundaries can be as fluid or as rigid as you both mutually agree they should be, which is something I personally haven't always found in having sex with cisgender women.

Since that first meeting, M and I still regularly see each other. Since they identify as a relationship anarchist and specifically solo non-monogamous, we don't consider ourselves each other's partner. We enjoy our time together by going on dates, having exploratory sex and talking shit about the bad dates we’ve been on with other people. There is no expectation of a ‘next step’ for us and that takes a lot of pressure off of us, allowing us to just experience each other without looking at each other through any particular lens. In the future, non binary dating app, I want a primary partner and to get married, but I know M won't be that person in my life. I think we both know, however, that we'll be in each other's lives for a very long time regardless of what form our relationship takes in the future.

I would like to tell people who are curious about using Feeld that it is the most inclusive app and has the most diverse community of users I have come across on all the other dating/hookup apps that I've used. People are there to make connections ranging from the kinky to the wholesome. There is something and someone for everyone on Feeld and the app's interface and culture lends itself to anyone looking for anything. You can make your own journey and experience on Feeld.