Rose In The Wind 3m 785 #tinder
The views of this article are the perspective of the author and may not be reflective of Confessions of the Professions.
One year ago, my ex broke my heart. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he promised. Then he changed his mind.
I found myself unexpectedly single at the ripe age of 34. As an aging millennial with the privilege of working remotely, I decided to embrace my inner Jack Kerouac. I canceled my lease and began an indefinite period of wandering, working remotely, and driving around the country in my 2009 Toyota Corolla named Vern. Along the way, I downloaded Tinder, the world’s most popular dating app, as well as its slightly more serious cousin, Hinge.
The apps largely worked for me. When I arrived in new places, I gained access to an immediate social network – a means to connect in the face of isolation. Sure, there were bad dates (the food pusher, the oversharer, the man who pushed me off the couch for saying I believed in toxic masculinity) but most of the men I met treated me with kindness and respect. Despite my anxieties about being single in my mid-30s, the apps made me believe I could, and would, find love.
Then I got banned.
A recent Tinder match included a “dom looking for a kinky sub.” He sent me a couple messages, which I ignored. Eventually I checked Tinder, but he had unmatched me.
An hour later, Tinder sent me a notification.
“You have been banned,” it said in bold. I had “violated Tinder’s Terms of Use.” I stared at my phone in bewilderment. I reviewed Tinder’s Terms of Use. I had never run afoul. This was a mistake.
I pulled up Hinge. Banned too.
“I’ve been banned by mistake,” I wrote into Tinder’s comment box. I sent the same message to Hinge.
Hours later I received a short response from “Kyle” notifying me I had violated the terms of use. I implored him to provide me details about what policy I violated and how I could appeal. Amy S. replied coldly: “Unfortunately, we cannot provide any more details at this time.”
Hinge told me the bans originated from Tinder. Tinder alone could overturn them. Despite my desperate attempts to get in touch, Tinder ghosted me.
I know getting kicked off a dating app isn’t the end of the world. But I was gutted. The apps had been a lifeline for me on the road. With online dating being the most popular way couples now meet, I felt banished from the dating pool – exiled to the netherworld of Tinder purgatory where no one could see or hear me.
I learned I’m not alone. Capricious banishment is a common Tinder practice. Articles about unfounded lifetime Tinder bans abound. There’s no doubt predators, scammers, and bots troll the site. I can see the rationale for a utilitarian approach: banning everyone who gets reported to maximize the safety of most. But underneath this policy is an insidious reality: the chance for matches (often men) to retaliate against those who’ve rejected them (often women).
The irony is that Tinder’s indiscriminate policy of permanently banning anyone who gets reported perpetuates the same bad behaviors and power dynamics it purports to guard against: allowing bigots or spurned bullies to further victimize those they target.
Match Group – Tinder’s parent company and online dating conglomerate — claims that the safety, security, and well-being of its users are “considered top priority.” I call bull. Match Group joins a host of other tech companies that have grown so big and so powerful it’s hard to hold them accountable for automated policies that make mistakes (sometimes with devastating repercussions). These companies don’t care about the fate of their individual users. They care about efficiency and financial expediency. Their goal is to mitigate liability and maximize their bottom line.
Yes, I know I’m talking about a dating app – not a court of law. I faced a wrongful transgression, not a wrongful conviction. Nonetheless, the policy denies people due process. A right to prove themselves innocent. It does exactly what it’s supposed to protect against: It silences. It bullies.
But I still have a voice. These apps claim to prioritize safety, but in reality, they peddle in hypocrisy and enable abuse. A company that had any integrity to its mission would provide some level of transparency – some recourse – for users who have been wronged.
Tinder’s community guidelines cite bullying, stalking intimidating, assaulting, harassing, mistreating, or defaming as grounds for removal. It’s high time Tinder looks in the mirror and holds itself accountable to the same standards as its users. Because based on this behavior, it deserves to be banned.
Original source: https://roseinthewind.org/2022/11/17/my-tinder-op-ed-no-one-published/
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