Abstract
New women-focused mobile dating apps purport to empower women by having them “make the first move” and disrupt traditional male-dominated dating norms. Drawing on feminist approaches and technological affordances, we examine how heterosexual cisgender women and men experience this “empowerment” and contrast it to other mobile dating app use. We used a multimethod approach to conducting app walkthroughs, focus groups, and interviews to contrast the mobile dating apps, Tinder and Bumble. The findings reveal that perceptions of free choice and action determine empowerment experiences. Our study reveals that the “forced empowerment” on Bumble was still strongly shaped by heterosexual gender norms that encouraged “good” girls and guys to use the app to look for long-term relationships but continue to use Tinder to hook up, despite the popular misogyny on Tinder identified by both men and women in our study. We conclude by discussing the empowerment paradox of dating apps through popular feminism and misogyny.
Keywords
Introduction
Technologies carry the cultural understanding of their creators, whose social norms and understandings are inherent in the construction and design of a technology (Light et al., 2018; Pfaffenberger, 1992). Designers alone do not determine the meaning of technologies, as users play an intricate role in the social construction of technology through their individual perception and interpretation of the technology (Hutchby, 2001; Pinch & Bijker, 1984). In this article, we use the framework of technological affordances (Evans et al., 2017) to explore heterosexual mobile dating apps. In particular, we examine the ways the explicit design of mobile dating apps intersect with users’ understandings and practices to reveal the ways female empowerment and disempowerment coexist (Banet-Weiser, 2018; Kabeer, 1999). Female empowerment is often associated with the disempowerment of men, who may lose parts of their privileges and power provided by patriarchy (Kabeer, 1999). Indeed, society and culture provide women and men with particular gender scripts in form of gender stereotypes or gender roles that emphasize how heterosexual cisgender men and women are supposed to behave and that the same behavior is most likely to be evaluated differently depending on the performer’s gender (Eagly & Wood, 2016; Kimmel, 2000; Prentice & Carranza, 2002).
The mobile dating app Bumble emerged largely in response to the toxic masculinity that manifested on Tinder and promotes itself as female-focused, safe, and empowering (Pruchniewska, 2020). Like phones or social media platforms that offer potential economic and social empowerment for women (Mądra-Sawicka et al., 2020; Porter et al., 2020), mobile dating apps also represent social technologies that are widely used by a majority of heterosexual women and men. However, these apps seem to differ in their empowerment potential. Tinder has been described as the original mobile dating app that attracted a critical number of users and introduced a swiping feature that emphasized the gaming character in dating, which is declared Tinder’s unique design feature by its parent company Match Group (O’Brien, 2018).
This study builds on previous work on female mobile dating app use (e.g., Chan, 2018; MacLeod & McArthur, 2019; Tanner & Tabo, 2018), especially by Bivens and Hoque (2018), who used a material-semiotic analysis approach to analyze Bumbles software, self-advertisement, and media coverage regarding its meaning-making of gender, sex, and sexuality with a special focus on how Bumble perpetuates aggressive masculinity, cisgender White women’s sexuality, safety, and control in its narrative. In line with this, Pruchniewska (2020) contributes to the women
The current article builds on these studies (Bivens & Hoque, 2018; Pruchniewska, 2020) to make three distinct contributions. First, we empirically draw on a multimethod approach that incorporates both user perspectives and the technological design features to see how they intersect. Second, we empirically examine both men’s and women’s perspectives and experiences with mobile dating apps and questions of empowerment. Third, we examine not just Bumble but Tinder as well to ascertain a more holistic understanding of the mobile dating app ecosystem. We seek to understand the explicit and implicit norms and opportunities for empowerment and disempowerment through these apps, which may result in paradoxical tensions of empowerment (Banet-Weiser, 2018). This article seeks to make contributions to our understanding of the potential limits of empowerment through digital technology, gendered norms on mobile dating apps, and how these prevailing circumstances shape a paradox of mobile dating for women.
Empowerment
The concept of empowerment is described in various ways across literature and traditionally refers to female empowerment or empowerment of marginalized groups. At the heart of its conceptualization are power relations, threat, and fear of losing power to someone who may gain power (Kabeer, 1999, 2005). It is about capacity and choice and to be able to act freely upon those maxims that have the potential to bring about change for the individual and the society alike. In her groundbreaking work on women’s empowerment in international development contexts, Naila Kabeer (1999, 2005) emphasizes that it is not sufficient to provide marginalized people with choice, defined as power over the possibilities for action. Choice has to be overtly visible and recognized. Kabeer (1999) argues that “[g]ender often operates through the unquestioned acceptance of power” (p. 14). Unquestioned power structures are the most powerful and resistant and contribute to the preservation of the status quo, that is, those in power, stay in power, while others remain disempowered. Visibility and recognition of choice and action is crucial factor in achieving empowerment. The visibility of choice and power can be made explicit through technological design. However, not every choice is equally consequential. The most important are strategic choices such as where to live, whether or with whom to have a romantic relationship, and whether to have children or not. These are what Kabeer refers to as first-order choices and are highly consequential for women’s empowerment. These set the frames for less consequential choices (second-order choice) that may affect the quality of life but have subordinate power. In the context of her research, first-order choices about whether or whom to marry are not always available to women. In the context of mobile dating apps used in Europe and the United States, however, the first-order choice for women is largely taken for granted. Gender empowerment through the technological design of the apps themselves is thus likely only to affect second-order choice.
Sarah Banet-Weiser (2018) also argues for the limitations of women’s empowerment within a contemporary digitally networked culture. Within the context of media and communication studies, she centers popular feminism and popular misogyny around empowerment movements that became popular digital movements. Popular feminism and popular misogyny represent two parties battling for power and capacity on the cultural landscape. Visibility again is a crucial factor for popular feminism, which explicitly celebrates a kind of commodity feminism within an individualized, neoliberal understanding of subjectivity. Banet-Weiser (2018) critically acknowledges that within an economy of visibility, women’s empowerment is often understood as self-empowerment, as an easy individual choice to “be,” to act confident and empowered: “They just need to believe it and then they will become it” (Banet-Weiser, 2018, p. 30). Such assumptions disregard that the structures which led to disempowerment have long been socially and structurally shaped. On the other hand, popular misogyny, as Banet-Weiser argues, “is expressed more as a norm, invisible, commonplace” (p. 32). Part of the power of popular misogyny is that is it often dismissed as boys being boys.
Heteronormative Mobile Dating
Long before mobile dating apps emerged and revolutionized dating in speed, reach, and availability of potential partners, highly gendered scripts have shaped the dating behavior of heterosexuals around the globe, although details in these scripts, norms, and stereotypes may exist and individuals surely experience different nuances of dating in their personal context. The most important gender script seems to be that men are supposed to take the lead and initiate contact. Research suggests that such heterosexist norms not only exist on mobile dating apps but maybe strengthened (e.g., Chan, 2018). For instance, women and men show stereotypical partner preferences (Abramova et al., 2016) and create profiles that adhere to heterosexist gender norms (Humphreys, 2006; Toma & Hancock, 2010).
Sexual entitlement refers to the heterosexist male norm in which men are expected to be in control and get what they want, whereas women should be submissive and passive (Christensen, 2021; Shaw, 2016). “Guy talk” is a vital part of the male gender script to talk about sex in a crude way, make fun of sex and women’s bodies, to engage in sexting, to objectify women, and to hook up to determine their masculinity and their value (Amundsen, 2021; Montemurro et al., 2015; Roberts et al., 2020; Thurnell-Read, 2012). Therefore, according to these norms, men are those in sexual power while women are expected to welcome their sexual objectivity.
Despite traditional gender norms, mobile dating app use may have the power to change some expectations and pave the ground for a kind of female empowerment. Hobbs et al. (2017), who interviewed several
However, this new role obviously depicts a paradox in itself and a sexual double standard for heterosexual women and men (Christensen, 2021; Roberts et al., 2020) in which women are only granted a spurious choice to act freely according to their wishes. Christensen (2021) specifies that women who engage in mobile dating seeking for romance face the risk of being judged as “too thirsty” or if they engage in the hook-up culture being labeled as
Technological Affordances of Mobile Dating Apps
Beyond individual and shared user strategies to mitigate gender-based harassment or enhance empowerment, the design of mobile dating apps can also influence behaviors. Technological affordances emerge from the interplay of technological design features and how users perceive and use them, so they can take different shapes for different users (Evans et al., 2017). In particular, affordances can be seen as invitations to use technology in certain ways and not others. For example, some research has suggested that the “swipe” design feature of some mobile dating apps can lead to a gamification of dating (Stampler, 2014). Of course, swiping does not have to become a game, but its fun user experience and ease of going through many profiles in a short period of time have become part of games that some men and women play with Tinder (Sobieraj & Humphreys, 2021). Different mobile dating apps offer slightly different design features, which differentiate them from one another such as swiping features, different user displays (e.g., stacks vs. grids), or different communication tools. Together with the user’s perception of the particular features, which in turn is formed by the user’s socialization and environment, affordances such as visibility, anonymity, and persistence are dynamically shaped. They can be assumed to moderate the relationship of technical design and the user’s behavior and therefore may result in different goals of use and outcomes (Evans et al., 2017). In this study, we examine the design features coupled with users’ experiences of them to explore how notions of especially empowerment and choice may result as an outcome on the different dating apps besides other outcomes such as rejection or harassment.
The story of Bumble suggests that female empowerment is built into the app. Bumble was founded by Whitney Wolfe Herd who is a former cofounder of Tinder, who left Tinder after filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against Tinder and a former cofounder (Hartmans, 2020). She started Bumble to create a “female focused” mobile dating app. “When members of the opposite sex match on Bumble, women are required to make the first move, shifting old-fashioned power dynamics and encouraging equality from the start” (Bumble, 2020). In line with Bumble’s ambition to empower women, previous research revealed that some women make a conscious choice to use Bumble because of its general reputation for female empowerment (Pruchniewska, 2020; Tanner & Tabo, 2018) but did not focus on the interplay of technological affordances and empowerment. In addition, mobile research suggests that empowerment through technology can inadvertently bring about forms of disempowerment as well (Donner, 2015).
In conclusion, the literature review suggests that despite strides toward female empowerment, broader technological, social, political, and economic forces have largely maintained heteronormative, White, cisgender power relations (Bivens & Hoque, 2018). While popular feminism has become more prevalent within public discourse and advertising, it is countered with an increasingly explicit popular misogyny (Banet-Weiser, 2018). These concerns are further evidenced in research on dating-specific apps (Hess & Flores, 2018; Lopes & Vogel, 2017; Pruchniewska, 2020). While focusing on the use of mobile dating apps, we take a technological affordance perspective in which we assume that technological affordances are mutually shaped by the design features of the apps and the user’s perception and interpretation alike so that the same app may serve different users in different ways (Evans et al., 2017; Hutchby, 2001). In this regard, we examine the user’s experience of empowerment and choice through different app use. We explicitly compare Bumble, a mobile dating app that claims to empower women, and compare it with Tinder, which research suggests can disempower women. Moreover, we want to examine whether the different technological design features and inherent affordances of Bumble and Tinder lead to varying perceptions of male and female users on these two apps.
Therefore, our research is guided by two primary questions:
Method
Because we are interested in how gender and technology are mutually shaped, we employed a multimethod approach to examine the technological design as well as users’ perceptions and usage of the mobile dating apps, Bumble and Tinder.
In a first step, we conducted a walkthrough study of both dating apps to explore the design of mobile apps and their sociocultural assumptions of use and audience, as described by Light et al. (2018). This informed the development of the focus group study to ensure that the pivotal design features are considered in the focus group guideline. The focus group study allowed for a gender-specific, socially oriented group view of both apps, their users, and norms and which then informed the interview study. The goal of the interview study was to obtain a better and deepened understanding of gendered practices of mobile dating app users. Together, these three studies help to triangulate our findings and enhance the project’s credibility (Maxwell, 2013). We will briefly describe each study in more detail; however, we will present integrated results to address our research questions.
Walkthrough Study
First, we used the app walkthrough method (see Light et al., 2018) to examine the current versions of the apps Bumble (02/20/19) and Tinder (02/22/19), specifically comparing the company’s
The first author conducted the walkthroughs, using a techno feminism lens to ascertain gendered design choices at each stage. First, the female researcher installed Bumble and Tinder on her smartphone, registered, created an account, used the apps without swiping through profiles or interacting with other users, and left the apps. She registered at first as female and then as male to examine whether interfaces or options changed, which they did not. She recorded the screen and verbally commented on her experience. Afterward, she made screenshots of changed screens and notes about the experience with each app. Finally, she closed the accounts and deleted the apps to ensure that other users did not try to interact with her through the app. Conducting the walkthrough without experience in mobile dating is advantageous as prior experiences could not affect perceptions of design, ensuring high awareness in each step.
Focus Group Study
Before conducting our second study, we sought approval from the local ethical committee, which had no ethical concerns. To examine the perceptions and experiences of mobile dating app users, we recruited focus group participants specifically for experience with Bumble. The focus group script comprised 17 questions, which covered four topics: (1) descriptions of different mobile dating apps, (2) stereotypes/stigma toward mobile dating app users/usages, (3) gender norms, and (4) future of mobile dating apps.
We conducted two female focus groups and one male focus group. We decided to conduct gender-specific groups to enable participants to speak more freely about gendered behaviors and experiences (Morgan, 1998). Participants were recruited explicitly based on their use of the Bumble app. The focus groups took place on the campus of a northeastern U.S. university; the sessions lasted between 72 and 75 min and were conducted by the lead author and a research assistant who took notes during the sessions. Sessions were additionally recorded via camera and audio to enable verbatim transcription afterward. Participants gave consent for the recordings and their participation.
The sample consisted of 26 undergraduate students (17 women and 9 men), ranging in age from 18 to 22. The majority were of Caucasian descent (
Interview Study
In addition to the focus groups, we conducted interviews to ascertain individual experiences with Bumble and Tinder. In total, we conducted 26 interviews (13 women; 13 men) with current or former Bumble users, ranging in age from 21 to 57 years (
Interviews were recorded and transcribed verbatim, then coded with MAXQDA 2020 (VERBI Software, 2019). We initially organized the data roughly around our categories in the interview protocol, which comprised questions about “typical” Bumble and Tinder users, the impact of technical design features on gender norms, the norms on Bumble, empowerment, best and worst experiences, and the future of mobile dating apps. In a next step, we developed inductive categories based on the interview material, such as around the ideas of action and pressure (e.g., “the woman reaches out and takes pressure off guys”; Mayring, 2010). We then consolidated using axial coding (Corbin & Strauss, 2014) to determine the relationships between emergent categories and themes.
Results
Empowerment Through Design
Our findings suggest that the apps’ designs are similar in many ways, but differ in some key areas with regard to gendered empowerment and choice. In fact, the similarity between the apps’ design is the subject of a patent infringement lawsuit brought by Tinder against Bumble (O’Brien, 2018), especially accusing Bumble to have stolen their swiping features.
Initially, the walkthroughs of Bumble and Tinder revealed that their phases of
One area of difference was that Bumble included optional profile questions, such as what the user wants from Bumble dates (e.g., marriage, long-term relationship and nothing serious), height, education, level of activity, and ideal plans for children (e.g., want some someday and don’t want). Interestingly, there is no “I don’t know option”; however, this category like every other category can be left unanswered. The kinds of questions on Bumble were similar to dating websites, whereas Tinder offered no further opportunity to share personal details in its profile design, besides a bio line that is sometimes called the hook-up line. Such additional profile information can affect experiences of anonymity and visibility on Bumble. Indeed, Pruchniewska (2020) suggested that Bumble users found that the option of providing additional information in Bumble helped them to safely navigate the app.
Swiping profiles on both apps is possible through enabling location-based filtering. While both apps enable filtering for age and distance, Bumble allows two additional profile filters as long as the user themselves had indicated the information in their own profile (i.e., a tit-for-tat principle). This gives Bumble users additional information with which to make choices about whom to swipe on.
On both apps, users are presented with a stack of profiles/
Although Tinder makes no requirements about who makes the first move once matched, Bumble exclusively requires women to message first. This rule is repealed in same-sex matches. In addition, Bumble matches expire after the first 24 hr if one side of the match decides to stay silent. Once both users interact, the match will remain in the match queue and messaging remains enabled. On Tinder, users can message one another once they match and the messaging feature remains enabled unless someone reports or blocks a user or deletes the match, the latter also applies to Bumble.
The message first feature and the 24-hr expiration feature can be read as the pivotal design features that distinguish Bumble from Tinder. While Tinder technologically offers choice to both men and women to initiate communication with matches, Bumble technologically restricts that choice to only women. In doing so, Bumble technologically ensures that women “make the first move” (as articulated on their website). More than half of our interview participants felt that women were empowered by this design choice.
I think they were empowered to have a voice. Since they’re the first ones to kind of create a conversation. They’re in control in that way. Of whether or not they really want to have a conversation after swiping with somebody. [. . .] So it’s kind of, it’s nice in a way that I can be like, “Okay, I’m in control of the situation. I’m here. I can chat with you if I want to.” It’s nice to know that we both are connected. And I can start the conversation when I want to. (Camille)
Like other participants, Camille felt that women were empowered on Bumble by having to start the conversation. Most reflections on empowerment by research participants circulated around possessing power and being in control by deciding whether or not to make the first move once matched by the app.
In addition to deciding whether or not to initiate conversation, the 24-hr rule further forces women to act. Several men in the focus groups reflected on how the 24-hr limit also gives women power on Bumble: So she has the power to decide whether she wants to message someone or not. And also the 24 hour period gives her power. If she doesn’t want to, then that will delete and she doesn’t have to worry again about, you know, someone messaging her randomly another time if she is uninterested. (Michael) Yeah, I almost feel like the 24 hour thing is almost like more empowering than having the ability to message first just because, it just totally, kind of gives female users the ability to match at first sight and then be like, “Nevermind, I don’t even want to talk to you” and disappear. (Jacob)
If women change their minds on a Bumble match, the ability to message disappears. As Michael and Jacob’s comments suggest, this can be empowering because there is a vulnerability of women on a dating app like Tinder to continue to receive unwanted messages from matches even if they’ve changed their mind. For most participants, questions of power, choice, and control were strongly intertwined and experienced as a technological and social process.
Since communication initiation goes against traditional female gender roles, some female focus group attendees discussed the motivating character of messaging first. For example, Hannah said, “It forces women to just be more like aggressive or assertive” and to step out of the comfort zone, though it may make them feel nervous or anxious.
Moreover, communication initiation was perceived as a good challenge by male and female focus group members and interviewees alike. For example, several respondents assumed that taking the lead and becoming active in approaching a man or let the match go give[s] her some, some strength and some energy to do it in the real life. It’s not the same thing [on the app] but when you start to do it, you get used to it and then you have more chance to do it in the real life, so I guess, I guess it gives a bit of power to the girl.
In line with this, participants suggested that it enabled women to, as Jimmy put it, “practice on the app” what can, first, set the tone for the upcoming conversation and, second, translate into daily life routine. For example, Alyssa suggested that taking the lead on Bumble transferred to her Tinder use where she started to initiate messaging first. Although the choice of who takes the lead in communication is taken away on Bumble by design, some participants thought it nevertheless provides the opportunity for female empowerment.
Some interviewees, however, were conflicted about whether Bumble’s design decision was empowering for women or not. Several interviewees clearly indicated that Bumble with its features is not empowering, a small number did not know whether it is empowering or not. For example, some described the experience as “forced empowerment” because women cannot freely choose whether they want to make the first move or not as Julian questions: “Empowered? Well, I mean, it forced, it is forced empowerment, because they have to make the first move, right?” Because women do not have the choice to make the first move or not, some participants question how empowering Bumble really is, for example, Olivia suggests that Bumble (. . .) gives a false sense of empowerment. Because at the end of the day, if the first person doesn’t respond, they don’t respond. So you may, you know, it superficially seems like it gives women more power, but actually, it takes two people, ultimately.
Participants like Melissa felt that the design to force women to make the first move actually backfires with regard to female empowerment: “Obviously, Bumble has the feature about the girls talking first, but I think, . . . [it] have kind of backwards effects of saying that girls don’t usually talk first” (Melissa). By forcing women to initiate contact, Melissa felt that Bumble actually reinforced the social norm that men make the first move.
Others who were critical of female empowerment on Bumble described the message requirement as a burden for women. There is no guarantee that the male match will respond and it puts pressure on women, something they may not be comfortable with especially if they lack confidence. However, in taking this step, the pressure to respond is given back to the man as Brianna describes: That happened to me one time, like, should I message him or not? And I saw the time getting down and it was like, well, you messaged him, and then it’s up to him if he responds, it’s no longer on my shoulders if I messaged him. If I don’t message him, then it’s my fault.
Brianna’s concern about not messaging a match reflected her concern that the potential relationship would never come to fruition because she was too nervous to make the first move. Several women described the choice of communication initiation as pressure-filled and at times anxiety-inducing. For these women, “making the first move” was not experienced as joyful empowerment but as worrisome burden.
One male participant, Tom, suggested that women already have all the power on Tinder because more men than women use the dating app. Indeed, some men in the focus groups suggested one of the reasons they started using Bumble was to increase his odds of getting a match because the ratio of men to women on the app was more in his favor than on Tinder. Moreover, Tom’s suggestion that women have all the power suggests that in his experience the choice to respond rather than initiate is ultimately where the power lies.
Different App—Different Norms?
Most of our research participants were either currently using both apps or had used both at some point in their pasts. The fact that almost everyone in our study had experience with Tinder despite being recruited based on experience with Bumble reveals the ways that mobile dating app usage is overlapping. Nevertheless, users were able to clearly articulate differences in normative expectations between the apps. The most common difference was that participants said Tinder was used for sex and Bumble was used for relationships. There were also implicit class distinctions. For example, Lauren characterized Tinder as “trashier,” whereas Bumble is characterized as “highbrow,” slightly “more respectable,” and “empowering” compared to Tinder (Melissa), which is in line with Bumble’s efforts to brand the app as female-focused and empowering (Bumble, 2020).
The different perception is also strongly intertwined with the assumed motivations to use specific apps. “Tinder is more like a hook up app” (Hannah), while “Bumble is more relationship based, not fully but like more than Tinder” (Rachel). These different perceptions also seem to affect the way users interpret other user profiles: I would definitely say that there’s a big difference though. (. . .) I’d be like, if like someone’s Tinder bio says I’m looking for a girlfriend. I kind of laugh and swipe left because I’m like, “You’re on Tinder. You don’t want a girlfriend.” (Brianna)
Women like Brianna interpret profiles through the implied lens of hook-up culture. Despite what users might say on their profiles, the expectation for casual sex dominated normative expectations on Tinder.
While the choice to make the first move is open to both men and women on Tinder, participants felt that the norm was for men to initiate contact and for women to respond. For example, Michael describes the difference: Well, I think guys are usually attracted most to Tinder for the sole reason of being able to initiate a conversation or say hi first or stuff like that. And so that’s taken away and kind of makes it a little uncomfortable, not uncomfortable for guys, but just switches it up and it gives girls the ability to do that, and so I think that definitely just changes how you talk and to have conversations because she starts the conversation. She takes the lead on that, so it forces guys to not be in the driver’s seat and to respond more and stuff like that. (Michael)
Although both men and women can initiate the conversation on Tinder, Michael describes the process of what it means for men to go from using Tinder where he was accustomed to being in control to using Bumble where he feels like he has no control and can only respond. Other men indicated said that they dislike having to wait for the woman to approach, suggesting these men are uncomfortable with nonheteronormative conforming communication norms in dating, even if they are potentially empowering to women.
Heteronormative expectations of dating still shaped expectations for participants. As Michelle describes, she and her girlfriends use mobile dating apps for fun, but still, wish for someone who shows some attention.
Um, I will say that it, um, urban girls, (. . .) they want to enjoy their single life but also they are dreaming of meeting the perfect guy, even if they tell everyone that it’s only for fun. [. . .] I mean me and my friends of mine, who are interested in using Bumble, it’s for that, it’s because we all want to have fun and we all want to enjoy our single life but we do hope to meet someone in this context because it’s fun and it’s and it would be if like we want to be hit by, by love, like, like “oh, I wasn’t looking for this but it just happened” you know. (Michelle)
Michelle’s quote suggests that she and her friends use Bumble in secret hopes of falling in love with the perfect guy, but don’t necessarily expect it from the apps. Instead, they try to embrace the “fun” of a single’s life, reflecting the newly evolved
The interviews and focus groups revealed that implicit and explicit social rules and rituals are inherent in mobile dating behavior. Bumble, which purports to be female-focused and gender norm-breaking, in some ways, reinforced notions of traditional gender roles of women who are looking for relationships rather than casual sex, in hopes of falling in love and meeting the “perfect guy.” While offering different gender norms, users of both Tinder and Bumble identified highly gendered scripts for mobile dating app use.
Perceived Female Bumble User Versus Female Tinder User
In addition to the difference between norms on the apps, participants were readily able to describe the perceived difference in their users. The question of how a typical female Bumble and Tinder user then could be described disclosed that the female Bumble user is assumed to be “more confident” (Hannah), since they have to message first. This also makes them seem more motivated and more serious about the use. Most often interviewees mentioned that she has a better education and is more professional, has better social skills which are also associated with some independence and assertiveness, and represents a “higher standard.” Rachel also adds that the girls probably have more self-respect. Only one person described her as more dominant and aggressive. In addition, female Bumble users are perceived as solely interested in dating and long-term relationships while interest in hook-ups is not an issue. In addition, James described the female Bumble user as “conservative.” In line with Banet-Weiser (2018), these descriptions read that the typical female Bumble user is a popular feminist, who already is empowered, has a choice in her life, and can freely act upon these opportunities.
By contrast, the characterization of the typical female Tinder user seems to be more diverse but less fitting into the picture of an empowered women. Female users are for instance described as younger, “feel the need to upload crazy pictures” (Danny), more diverse, less interesting, have gone through “rough passages” in their lives (Dwayne), curious, promiscuous, and less self-confident. Noteworthy, for some people it was hard to tell any typical characteristic or difference of female Bumble and Tinder users. One female focus group added: I feel like when we’re talking about Tinder from the dude’s point of view as well. I think we’re girls are just as guilty sometimes, too. Yeah, if you’re on Tinder you’re obviously . . . Yeah. (Rachel) Yeah, you’re looking for the same thing. (Brianna) Girls on Tinder are more willing to hook up than Bumble. I really want to hook up, like, [I go to] Tinder. (Victoria)
This exchange importantly captures the taboo nature of women explicitly looking for a hook-up. The term “guilt” conveys the stereotypical inappropriate nature of women using Tinder to seek out sexual activity. The sexual double standard prevents female empowerment on Tinder. Using Tinder for sex is something to feel guilty about rather than empowering women to practice sexual entitlement, speak their mind, and express sexual desires. Instead, women who use Tinder are framed as “risk-takers” rather than “girlpower” (Harris, 2003).
Perceived Male Bumble User Versus Male Tinder User
The comparison between a typical male Bumble and Tinder user showed that participants perceived them quite differently. Tinder male users were described as “thirsty,” “fuck boy,” “obtrusive,” “bold,” “knowing what they want,” “creepier,” more likely to send inappropriate lines and pictures, “still living in their Mums’ houses with their cats,” and funnier than his Bumble counterpart. In addition, the typical male Tinder user is solely described as hook-up driven. No one associated long term relationship search with him. This picture fits into a heteronormative frame of masculinity (Christensen, 2021) and may in part fit into the picture of a popular misogynist (Banet-Weiser, 2018).
By contrast, the typical male Bumble user was described as more relationship-driven. Moreover, he was characterized as “less stupid actually,” well educated, as a “momma boy,” “being less one dimensional,” “less non-committal,” “more clean cut,” “more respectful,” and Alexis states “I think [Bumble use] implies that guys actually are interested in having girls make the first move, which is a good feeling.” Diane and Ashley conclude that the male Bumble user is better “quality.” Here quality implies how well he will treat a woman. By contrast, three interviewees concluded that the male Bumble and Tinder users do not differ; all men are clearly still looking for hook-ups regardless of the platform they use.
Discussion
Our comparison of mobile dating apps, Tinder and Bumble, initially began as an exploration into how a mobile dating app actively sought to empower women through design interventions. Our initial exploration of Bumble and empowerment centered on the idea of empowerment through design. Drawing on Kabeer’s (1999) definition of empowerment as a visible choice, we understood Bumble’s design feature of making women talk first as a visible sign that women were making choices that would empower women in their relationships. However, upon conducting the focus groups, it became apparent that most Bumble users also continued to use Tinder and that they overlapped within the broad media app environment. Together they represented both the popular feminism and the popular misogyny that Banet-Weiser (2018) argues represents the contemporary media environment.
Despite the promotion of and focus on women making the first move on Bumble, research participants identified practices and expectations on the app that were remarkably gender heteronormative and conservative compared to that of Tinder: Good girls on Bumble used the app to find relationships as opposed to bad girls on Tinder who looked for sex and boring guys on Bumble as opposed to exciting guys on Tinder. As Bivens and Hoque (2018) argue, Bumble’s narrow conceptualizations of gender and sexuality are largely based on White cisgender definitions of femininity and masculinity. Yet, the differences between Tinder and Bumble that our participants were quick to discuss were of course clearly complicated as most of our participants actually used both apps which can be seen as part of the mobile dating paradox. This suggests that it is not enough just to study the discourse of mobile apps, lived practices reveal the multiple complexities of gendered technological interactions.
The “forced empowerment” on Bumble ideally protected women’s unwanted messages from men as well as from backlash of being seen as too forward for gender nonconforming behavior. However, almost half the female participants did not experience this “empowerment” as a positive experience. Instead, this “forced empowerment” was experienced as pressure and anxiety-inducing rather than liberation. Our findings mirror Banet-Weiser’s (2018) critique of popular feminism that claims empowerment is the easy personal choice to just “be” confident, which is also reflected in the Bumble branding. Certainly, some women in our study had a positive experience with Bumble’s women talk first feature. They enjoyed having the power to decide whether or not to get in touch with their male match and being in control of the situation and the conversation. But this power to control communication was ultimately within tactic expectations of heteronormative long-term relationship-seeking. Bumble becomes emblematic of popular feminism in that it does not significantly disrupt sexist economic or political structures (Banet-Weiser, 2018) but instead empowers women to find love and settle into a nice relationship.
As Bivens and Hoque (2018) suggest, Bumble’s notions of gender and sexuality are narrowly defined around implicit White, cisgendered, heteronormativity. Moreover, the visibility of female empowerment through Bumble’s advertisements, their ambassadors, and their design can have backlash effects, since it emphasizes that women who approach men are out of the norm. The attempt to make female empowerment visible can trigger greater misogynistic backlashes (Banet-Weiser, 2018). A few of our participants felt that despite the supposed difference between Bumble and Tinder, the users were really the same and all just looking to hook-up.
On Tinder, women and men are technologically free to conform with or counter heterosexist gender scripts. However, the gender norms of use articulated by our participants revealed deeply gender-conforming practices where men aggressively seek women indiscriminately for sexual encounters. Only one participant who said that she started initiating more contact on Tinder after using Bumble demonstrated a kind of sexual empowerment on Tinder. However, this is not typical for most women in our study. Despite women actively using Tinder for causal sexual encounters, the taboo nature of women seeking out sexual encounters prevented Tinder from being associated with female empowerment for our participants. Moreover, this seems to reflect the mobile dating paradox in which women seem to be caught. Their behavior, which is welcomed or at least tolerated on one app may easily be evaluated as shady on the other preventing women to act empowered and be perceived as such. In terms of technological design features, Tinder offered a greater communicative choice to both men and women but was perceived through White, heteronormative frames whereby men often initiated contact, sometimes in aggressive or misogynistic ways as a result.
Furthermore, our participants perceived Tinder to be fraught with popular misogyny. Much like previous research (Hess & Flores, 2018; Shaw, 2016), women in our study who rejected men’s advances were sometimes subjected to harassing messages from men through the app. Even some of the men in our study commented on how Bumble helps to minimize this problem for women. Male Tinder users were perceived by our participants as sexually entitled subjects who promote misogyny, while male Bumble users were perceived as better “quality” but less exciting. The paradox of female empowerment was further visible in the descriptions of female Tinder and Bumble users, the former being “at risk” and the latter empowered superficially or by force. Therefore, it remains questionable whether forced empowerment carries less value and whether the experience of empowerment will change or evolve on Tinder and Bumble over time. Therefore, future studies should take look at the potential evolution of the paradox of mobile dating app and forced empowerment.
Limitations
One potential limitation was the discrepancy between the focus group participants (all relatively young adults) and interviewees (with a wider age range). Participants’ age among focus groups attendees was closer to 20 and younger than the interviewees’ average age. Although a college group is the target population for these apps, they may not be the best group for reflection on empowerment and choice, since they are at the very beginning of sexual identity development (Christensen, 2021; Sakaluk et al., 2014) and may not have experienced critical situations for reflections.
Although Bumble and Tinder slightly differ in handling gender identity information, we decided not to further focus on it due to the scope of the article; however, we are aware that it has powerful implications for those who have nonheterosexual identities like Bivens and Hoque (2018) reflected on. Our participants were largely White, upper/middle class, cisgender, heterosexual adults, and thus their experiences likely do not translate to other communities of users. Future studies should strive for a more diverse sample to potentially capture an even wider range of experiences. Alternatively, focusing more specifically on particularly marginalized populations and their experiences of different apps will allow future researchers to understand how race and/or class, for example, can further intersect with technological design features, affordances, and empowerment.
Since the study was advertised as a Bumble-focused study, participants who had positive experiences with Bumble may have been predominantly attracted by the ad. Given that participants shared negative experiences, however, we are not as concerned. That said, the mobile dating app environment continues to change and the findings here about Bumble or Tinder may not translate to future iterations of these apps or to other dating apps.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the current article examined through a triangulation of methods how technical design shapes mobile dating app use. Different from former studies (e.g., Bivens & Hoque, 2018; Chan, 2018), we focused on the intersection of technological design features and users’ perceptions of those and how they may result in experiences of empowerment and choice of women and men on mobile dating apps. Our contribution is to shift the framing of “empowerment by design” to “forced empowerment” which reflects that larger systemic gender inequities and norms still shape dating behaviors of men and women. The paradox of mobile dating that our study reveals is when women are forced to initiate interactions on Bumble it can be anxiety-inducing, but when she chooses to initiate engagement through Tinder, she is considered negatively aggressive and is therefore caught in a no-win situation.
Overall, Tinder and Bumble are designed very similarly, except for Bumble’s features of women messaging first and the 24-hr match expiration. These features are meant to empower women; however, such experiences were not always welcome and in some ways led to more stereotypically gendered relational configurations of “good girls” looking for long-term relationships. Participants’ perceptions of mobile dating, gender roles, and scripts were strongly shaped by broader social norms. Participants, however, do experience mobile dating apps positively, despite reinforcing various gender norms regarding morality and sexual promiscuity, particularly for women. Nevertheless, masculine hegemony on both apps was revealed either through toxic masculinity of sexual conquest or positive masculine performances where men “let” women make the first move. Without larger societal and political changes, female empowerment will be largely a popular or commodity feminism (Banet-Weiser, 2018), which is, of course, available for purchase with the premiere membership to the dating apps.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was partly supported by a postdoc fellowship of the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD).
