B umble launched in 2014 as a “feminist dating app” that was “designed to challenge outdated heterosexual dating norms.” It distinguished itself on the market and (theoretically) empowered women by requiring them to send the first message, which supposedly helped prevent harassment, predatory messages, and unsolicited nude photos from men.
Ten years later, Bumble has rebranded. When asked by the company, nearly half of 6,138 female users aged 23–35 told Bumble that they prefer additional ways to start a conversation, so it introduced the “Opening Moves” feature, which allows women to pick prompts for their matches to answer. The media celebrated this development as alleviating a burden on women, despite the fact that practically every other dating platform has it: “This new feature on Bumble takes the pressure off women to make the first move,” reads an article complimenting the app that was founded on women making the first move. Apparently, sending “heyyy” with a smiley emoji is just too much of an ordeal.
The thing about those “outdated heterosexual dating norms” is that they remain desirable. Unsurprisingly, feminists misunderstood women, but perhaps that’s because women hardly know what they want: They complained about something men traditionally did, but then complained when they had to do it themselves. CEO Lidiane Jones said of the rebrand, “We’re also hearing from women that empowerment today is not only about control but it’s also about agency,” while chief marketing officer Selby Drummond added, “Our core principle remains . . . empowering women in every connection and in every relationship.” Indeed, I never felt “empowered” until I had the “agency” to pick the prompt, “What’s your ideal first date?”
For the rebrand, the company released a commercial that shows a woman forswearing dating and becoming a nun, only to abandon the convent after a shirtless gardener catches her eye and a sympathetic sister gives her a contraband phone with the Bumble app. As part of the same ad campaign, billboards advised, “You know full well a vow of celibacy is not the answer” and “Thou shalt not give up on dating and become a nun.” Ah yes, that old familiar tale: An average American woman frustrated with dating resorts to being a nun. I think of my many friends in college who chose the cloister after a bad date. Girls, I miss you, but you really should consider breaking your vow to God, because now you can pick an ice-breaker on Bumble — so you’re destined to secure a husband. Rejoice and be glad!
Bumble apologized for the disastrous ad campaign, calling it a “mistake” — not because it trivialized Christianity but because it upset “asexuals” and progressives in the post-Roe era. Bumble released a statement confusing “celibacy” with “chastity,” and further disclosed that it had heard “perspectives” from “those who shared that celibacy is the only answer when reproductive rights are continuously restricted; from others for whom celibacy is a choice, one that we respect; and from the asexual community, for whom celibacy can have a particular meaning and importance. . . . We are also aware that for many, celibacy may be brought on by harm or trauma.” Nothing about, say, conservatives who reserve intimacy for marriage. No apology to nuns for what could be cultural appropriation of religious life. I guess all the Catholics submitted complaints in Latin. Whoops! Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
Perhaps this recent episode has offended the “asexual community,” but Bumble alienated moderates a long time ago — and not because it was “feminist.” When I moved to England, I downloaded Bumble BFF (the app for social outings and friendships) with the hopes of meeting some people outside my university department. As I created a profile, I was able to select from the following “social activism” tags: LGBTQ+ rights, Black Lives Matter, Feminism, Voter Rights, Human Rights, Environmentalism, Stop Asian Hate, Going Green, and Sustainability. No pro-life, Second Amendment, or free-speech tag. The “spirituality” labels included “astrology” and “law of attraction.” The list of “sexuality” identity labels available — despite the fact that this is the friendship app — allowed me to select “allosexual,” “androsexual,” “gynesexual,” “monosexual,” “omnisexual,” “skoliosexual,” and “spectrasexual.”
I know Bumble began with the hopes of reducing unsolicited messages, but I have some unsolicited advice: Don’t assume all the users on a “feminist” app are radical progressives, and let people detail their values (yes, even those pesky conservative values) rather than elaborate on a “personal pet peeve.” Relationships, particularly romantic ones, are not likely to be founded on the discovery that someone shares the same “go-to karaoke song.” Sure, I love a good icebreaker, yet I have never thought, “I’ll go on a date with that guy, but only if he has the same ideal superpower as mine.” Attraction doesn’t begin when someone describes a “dream vacation.” Bumble is correct that people are “exhausted” by dating, but that’s because apps like Bumble highlight superficial preferences while obscuring important principles that might facilitate genuine connections. Then again, the apps sell subscriptions, so it’s not in their interest for you to have a long-lasting relationship.