Photo: Shutterstock
If you’re one of the millions of users on Grindr, you know this type of profile well. A display name of “Bi/Masc,” followed by a headline that reiterates “Bi, masc, and discreet,” and an “about me” that confirms, just in case you missed it, “Bi dude, masc, on the DL. Looking for other jocks like me for play.” Their profile pics are always some blurry image of meaty flesh. Abs, rear delts, biceps, etc.
To this day, I think I have seen one open bi man on Grindr (excluding those who have a female partner and are looking for a third). Bi men on Grindr, while in abundance, consistently label themselves as masculine and discreet. I’m counting down the days until I see a “Bi/Fem” display name with a face for a profile pic. If this happens, I will immediately propose. He’ll probably be creeped out and block me, but I won’t be able to control my excitement.
The extreme homogeneity of the bi community on Grindr is not just disheartening for me, as someone interested in all types of bisexual men. Rather, the greater worry is that the abundance of bi/masc profiles perpetuates false misconceptions about bisexual men—that we’re all closeted and masculine. Needless to say, this isn’t the case. Plenty of bisexual men are out and identify more as fem. But my fear is that Grindr is becoming yet another force pushing against the credibility of more feminized bisexual men as truly bisexual, rather than just “gay.” For those who only interact with bi men through Grindr, I can’t help but wonder how the hook-up app contributes to subtle subconscious biases. Certainly, I don’t think the deduction is as explicit as “Grindr bis are masc, so all bi men are masc,” but after months (or years) of perusing Grindr and seeing only bi/masc men on the DL, it’s hard to avoid developing preconceptions about bisexual men. That’s just how the human brain works.
My goal in writing this piece isn’t to shame the DL, masculine bisexuals who want to have sex with other men or to somehow reduce their prevalence on Grindr. That’s the last thing I want to do. Safe exploration is necessary to any queer man’s journey, and I hope through exploration, these men will eventually be able to come out with pride. My fear, ultimately, is twofold. First, I am concerned that stereotypes against bisexual men are being propagated, and gay men are getting an inaccurate impression of bi men. Second, and no less important, is my fear of the inevitable fetishization of bisexual men.
This fetishization is precisely the reason I don’t say I’m bi on Grindr, even though I’m comfortably out. I list it on my other dating apps (Tinder, Bumble) but I specifically do not mention anything about my sexual orientation on Grindr. Since I use Grindr for casual encounters and not dates, I don’t see a need to mention my bisexuality in my profile because, ironically, my bisexuality doesn’t play into my sexual dynamics whatsoever.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Zach, you literally just said you want to see more out and open bi men on Grindr and here you are, not listing your sexual orientation. How can you expect other out and proud bi men to list their bisexuality on Grindr when you don’t? You’re a hypocrite and I hate you.”
To that, I respond, all right … seems a little excessive, but I understand your frustration.
What I would like to see is a world where bi masc men feel they can be open in real life, and bi fem feel they can be open online/sexually, and that they are equally as desirable on a place like Grindr as more masculine men. While I understand everyone has their preferences (not to be confused with racism — “No rice, no spice” is not a preference; it’s racism, FYI), this is about more than taste in men. It’s about feeling comfortable expressing who you are.
There needs to be a shift in the way society, and of course the LGBT community, views bisexual men. We need to be more open to fem/bi men so they feel accepted and wanted, by both men and women, and we need to stop conflating gender expression with sexuality. Masc bi men aren’t any “straighter” than fem bi men. The fetishization of masc/DL bisexual men is based on this false premise of being “straighter,” which, sorry to burst your bubble, is ridiculous. So let’s take a step back, analyze how we view gender and sexuality, and what’s the role we want it to play in our lives when we’re loving, dating, and sleeping with men.
And maybe the labels of fem/masc are doing more harm than good.
