Fat Dating App
Bustr is the highly recommended app as it provides all users with prominent and secure dating service that caters to curvy dating. This app is designed specifically for people looking for BBW dating. It is credible and free to sign up. She said: 'If you've ever wondered what it's like dating while fat, well today is your lucky day.' Earlier this year, Beth matched with a guy called Justin on the app - who boasted in his bio that he's a 'rebel' because he doesn't watch pornography and that exercise is like 'breathing to him'. These fitness-friendly dating apps take the cake—er, protein shake—among single people who like to sweat on the reg: Advertisement - Continue Reading Below. Datefit itunes.apple.com. In 2013, I began making profiles on fat-specific dating websites and apps. That is, platforms specifically targeted at fat people and our 'admirers'. Since then, I’ve had accounts on WooPlus.
Cheyenne M. Davis reviews the most popular dating app for Black singles and asks the question, is it fat-friendly?
Although Plenty of Fish didn’t garner the best results, it still reinvigorated a sense of hope for me in dating apps and even in finding love, period. Now that I am experiencing “Mainstream Dating App Fatigue” from using three platforms owned by the same company, I have started to look for dating apps that are more niche or specific to a certain subgroup. In the spirit of Black History Month, what better app to choose than BLK?
An app developed by, you guessed it, Match Group, BLK (which to be quite honest, I don’t know if it’s pronounced “B-L-K” or “Black” as I personally call it) is created for Black daters and gives them a safe haven to match, meet and find love. Even though BLK has been around since 2017, according to Jonathan Kirkland, their Head of Marketing and Brand, the app has gained more traction and user activity in the wake of the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020 and the COVID-19 pandemic. Hearing this inspired me to give this app a try because it not only offered the impression that I will find like-minded folx, but I also felt that it would possibly be easier to date on this app being that it is specifically made with Black people in mind.
Infrastructure
At first glance, BLK is everything I imagined it to be, it almost looked like an upscale version of its predecessor SoulSwipe. For Black History Month, the app’s logo, which is normally white lettering on a black background, is spelled in kente cloth colors, and the interface of the app itself is on a black background as well. To add to the cheekiness of the dating app, on Sundays, it even sends you church-themed notifications to remind you to check it. Although this may seem corny or even cringe-worthy to some, I find BLK’s fun humor and incessant need to prove its affinity for “Blackness” to be quite entertaining.
My biggest issue with the app is its user-friendliness. Although it is a swipe app, navigating it as a whole isn’t as seamless as I would’ve liked for it to be. When swiping, all profiles are seen as a collection of pictures with the person’s name and age. In order to get more information on an individual, you have to tap on the small information icon. As a person who enjoys reading profiles, having to jump through hoops to find it is annoying and not so user-friendly at all. In addition to this, having only pictures and one’s name be the first thing you see initially, can give off the vibe that BLK is more of a hookup app and not necessarily one for dating. The app can also be glitchy at times with the occasional frozen screen slowing down the platform’s performance.
My final take on BLK’s infrastructure is that even though you can change your gender identification in your bio, which is very much unlike Plenty Of Fish where you have to make a whole new profile to change your gender, you can only choose between woman or man. This app is most definitely catering to cisgendered folx and isn’t inclusive of a-gendered, nonbinary, intersex, trans, and other folx who do not identify within the margins of the binary. This is super problematic to me because it paints a picture that only certain types of people, specifically those who are socially acceptable, are welcome on BLK, and y’all know that grinds my gears.
Creating a Profile
Similar to Tinder, creating a profile on this app was easy and didn’t require a lot of writing. The only thing it requires is your name, birthday, occupation, education, and a brief bio, and chile…do I mean brief. What sets my profile on this app apart from the previous ones is that I intentionally left out my work on fat activism or the fact that I support BLM. On other dating sites like OkCupid, Tinder, I tend to put these things on my profile because those apps cater to and have an audience that predominately white and non-Black. Having this information visible on my profile adds a level of protection in eliminating people who are ignorant. Being that BLK is a Black app, I felt a bit safer with sticking to my non-political interests because there is a greater chance of running into potential partners who have similar viewpoints as I do.
Source: Cheyenne M. Davis / Cheyenne M. Davis
Paid vs Free Subscriptions
In typical Match Group fashion, BLK offers free, Premium, and Elite memberships. In the Premium subscription, for as low as $9.99/mo, you can have unlimited likes, a monthly boost, and the ability to rewind on profiles that you’ve swiped left on. The step up to this is the Elite package, which for an additional $10 only allows you to see who has liked you already. To be frank, I find Match Group’s pricing system to be a bit of a scam when it comes to these paid subscriptions because they don’t come with enough incentives. Additionally, you would think that they would try to tap into some discounted or even free offerings for these features this month being that it is our month.
Membership aside, I will say that I was pleasantly surprised to see how astronomically more attractive the people on this app were compared to others. It was truly a breath of fresh air. However, once you remove the thirst and actually tap onto some profiles, you will definitely see a completely different story. I truly hate to say this, but a lot of the men on this app give off Black incel and “hotep” vibes. Most of them refer to women as “females” (big yikes), incorporate unnecessary rants about how they will block all folx who don’t identify as cis women for even telling them they’re attractive, followed by a few words about how they don’t support “gold diggers” and women with Cash App in their bios. I just swipe left on these types of men automatically because it’s super violent, and this type of thinking is late AF. Another thing that sends me into orbit is that most of these men in the NYC Metro Area seem to do the same poses, having the photographic trifecta of a “summertime fine shorts and fitted” pic, a “leaning against the car” picture, and the quintessential “sweatsuit and Jordans while standing in the stairwell” image to tie it all together.
Source: Cheyenne M. Davis / Cheyenne M. Davis
In terms of my personal experiences, I will note that BLK is the “perfect” marriage of the fat fetishism that I’ve endured on other platforms, but also with some pleasant surprises. Y’all know that I always receive messages like “U so thick (insert peach and smirking devil emoji here)” and some sexual innuendos here and there, and honestly, I’m pretty numb to it. However, I will say that I’ve gotten the most responses on this app from folx I would consider dating in the future. Despite having to weed out some chubby chasers, I am pleased to report that there are a few potential suitors I am interested in who I am currently talking to, so I will definitely keep you all updated as things progress.
The Verdict
Honestly, BLK has given me, even more hope in my dating app journey, thus receiving a fat friendliness rating of 3/5. Dealing with fat fetishists comes with the territory for every dating app, so I urge all of my fellow fat femmes, especially fat, Black femmes, to err on the side of caution when it comes to conversing with people who conflate having an affinity for larger folx and/or being fat amorous with fetishizing them. Despite this, I will say that my experiences, thus far, have been pretty positive and interesting. Now, to the many people who have relegated me to “niche” apps, I would like to make a note that platforms that are made for people and the groups that they identify with (i.e. racially specific or size-specific dating apps and services) are not utopian spaces for those folx to congregate and connect. They, too, are microcosms of the world that we exist in and are not devoid of critique.
In theory, BLK has the potential to be a great app for BLK folx to connect. However, I find it to be very performative in the way that it not only uses copywriting and design elements that feature African-American vernacular English but also includes things that may pique the interest of Black people. Keep in mind that this app is made by Match Group, whose executive and development teams are teeming with non-Black folx, so the app’s approach to dating and Blackness can come off as very disingenuous and lacking the progressiveness that they are trying to portray. All in all, BLK definitely has a lot of room for improvement, but I will say that it has given me opportunities to find new people to meet, talk to, and hopefully date.
Cheyenne M. Davis reviews the most popular dating apps for singles and asks the question, are they fat-friendly?
As the COVID-19 pandemic continues to apply pressure on the world, we are continuing to grasp for any part of reality that we can hold on to. A large portion of this revolves around getting creative with how we go about cultivating relationships and intimacy. Despite it being around for years, people are flocking to online dating with more urgency, myself included.
Although online dating seemingly makes it easier to connect, for some of us, it’s more of a curse than a blessing. Being that I identify as a fat, Black femme, the way I navigate life isn’t comparable to your average thin, able-bodied Karen. And although I and even Ray Charles can see that we aren’t the same, I still wondered if my experiences with dating really existed in a vacuum.
Most of these dating apps boast about having a diverse membership base and how they integrate new features to support “all” people who utilize their platforms. From the outside looking in, this all sounds great on paper, of course, but part of me knew that something was amiss. Putting on my Sherlock Holmes cap, I decided to do some sleuthing in order to see if these apps are “fat friendly” and inclusive as they claim to be, and what better way than to start than with the most problematic app of them all — Tinder.
An app created in 2012 from the ingenious collaboration of Sean Rad, his college bros and a woman (who shortly after left to create Bumble), Tinder’s swipe format stems from the ye olde concept of “hot or not.” Swipe right on those who are hot, and, inevitably, swipe left on those who are deemed unattractive. From the start, one can see that Tinder’s MO is very much motivated by perpetuating societal beauty norms.
But now that it’s 2021, I’ve decided to turn down my side-eye and give Tinder some grace. First by embracing the minimal improvements that they have made in their eight-year existence, and also by giving them the benefit of the doubt. Without further ado, let’s get into the specifics.
Creating a Profile
In my opinion, creating a profile on Tinder is the easiest part of the process. I picked my top nine photos, making sure to include as many full-body pictures as possible to avoid being accused of being a villainous fat girl looking to dupe men with “bodily-ambiguous” images. I also toggled “Smart Photo” on to keep track of which photo was generating the most likes.
Source: Courtesy of Cheyenne Davis / MadameNoire
After curating a group of photos that would even give Anna Wintour chills, I proceeded with drafting the best profile summary possible, making sure to include as many facets of my personality as possible to appear multidimensional AF. Also, let’s not forget adding that favorite Beach House song (as I am a self-proclaimed stan of this band), and I linked my Spotify and Instagram to give potential matches a brief look into my life.
Fat Guy Dating App
Tinder Basic Vs Tinder Gold
Initially, I only used Tinder Basic because a bish is frugal and trying to conserve her funds. However, once Tinder announced that they were giving Passport, or the ability to virtually travel and swipe in other countries to all Tinder Gold members, I decided to make the transition to the paid subscription. For a whopping $14.99 a month, Tinder Gold offers the ability to see who liked you first, five daily super likes, a monthly boost, and the option to change the app icon from red to gold on your phone’s home page, which is inarguably the best and most effective feature they have.
Fat Dating App Reviews
In terms of my experience, the only true difference is that I am able to “travel” the world and see my endless likes from “BBW admirers,” “non-Black chubby-chasing wokefishers,” and your local street pharmacist who is using Tinder as a way to procure clients and promote their latest SoundCloud track while looking to enjoy “good vibes” in their spare time. While using both membership plans, I have experienced men who have sent me messages that lack salutations but cut straight to the chase of hypersexualizing and objectifying my body without my consent, only to become volatile when called out for it. On the flip side, I have initiated messages where I introduce myself, resulting in no responses or immediate unmatches. I’ve even received communication from men telling me that their sole purpose in messaging me was to inform me that I was too fat to be attractive. Big yikes.
In addition to this, I have received a lot of messages where men not only fetishize me for being a fat, Black femme but also are pushing to have sex with me, even when I have explicitly stated that I am not interested in casual encounters. Because of this, on Tinder, I feel like I cannot win and therefore have taken a step back from using this app to protect my peace and edges.
Source: Courtesy of Cheyenne Davis / MadameNoire
Tinder’s Reporting Process
I’m going to make this portion as brief as possible because there is literally nothing monumental about the steps this app takes to protect its constituents. I have reported several instances of sexual harassment and bullying on this app, and they subject you to reliving the trauma and aggravation of these situations by having you describe the incident only to never follow up on the matter. Additionally, there are so many profiles with sexually explicit content and even d–k pics, and they are never removed. You’re subjected to this harm regardless of how much you pay to use the app.
The Verdict
Based on my unsavory experiences and Tinder’s lack of regard, I’m giving the app a fat-friendliness rating of negative 2 out of 5, and that’s honestly being generous. This app is truly ratchet.edu, and it really does nothing to serve the fat community, let alone people within that space who look like me. Of course, people will argue that Tinder is a “hook-up” app, and it’s not their responsibility to rebrand themselves to promote dating and relationships. However, I know so many accounts of people finding significant others and even marriage partners on this app. I also know that most of those people happen to be thin. I’ve even consulted other fat folx to get a scope of their experiences, and they have noted that they only see that thinner people are being asked on whole dates while they are being propositioned to sit on someone’s face every five seconds.
I can somewhat agree that Tinder isn’t obligated to change its casual-friendly vibe. However, they at least need to consider how they can go about having better preventative measures in place. That way, they can actually care for the welfare of members in order to actively enforce the harm reduction that needs to take place on their platform. Tinder may provide a space to “spark” certain connections for a certain demographic, but I think it’s high time to strike a match and watch it go up in flames. This, my friends, most certainly ain’t it.