There is not much that can stop a dedicated fandom.

Not paywalls, not cancellations, and certainly not even the source of their fan fervor itself, as was the case in several high profile instances of extreme parasocial behavior. And as queer hockey romance Heated Rivalry has dominated social feeds, it has once again proved that federal laws are not going to dissuade a fan from their idols of worship.

Fans of the show living in Russia, for example, have risked jail time in order to engage with the viral phenomenon, writes Russian reporter Mikhail Zygar for Vanity Fair (the show chronicles the same-sex love affair between a Russian hockey player and his Canadian rival). Fans have flooded dedicated Telegram channels to share encrypted links and bumped up its ratings to the top spot on Kinopoisk, a Russian media review site. They're leaning on VPNs to obscure their IP addresses and engaging in online piracy. You wouldn't steal an enemies-to-lovers romance, would you?

Despite the collective joy attached to the series, the stakes are serious. The Russian Federation has some of the most extreme anti-LGBTQ laws on record, including an outright ban on LGBTQ content. Russian leaders have attacked and censored what they call the "International Public LGBT Movement," convicting more than 100 individuals for the crime in 2025 and imprisoning at least two. Violators can also face fines of 400,000 rubles ($5,111) to 5 million rubles ($63,898), PinkNews reported.

As of today (Jan. 15), the government has officially charged Russian streaming services with the crime of violating the country's propaganda laws, which prohibit the amplification of "nontraditional sexual relationships" to Russian citizens. The charges target domestic sites and cloud sharing services like Beeline TV, Kinopoisk, Wink, Ivi, Amediteka, 24TV, and Digital Television.

The determination of Russian fans to stream the hot new show mirrors a general trend in online fandom and among Heated Rivalry fans, specifically, who initially shared ways to torrent the series using VPN services and links pulled from its parent network, Crave Canada, and licensing network HBO Max US. HBO Max reportedly only signed on to the project after successful pitches from employees who were fans of the show's book series. They said they felt they needed to "do their civic duty" and get the show to the masses.

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The success of Heated Rivalry — and the formidable sports romance book industry from which its source material gained its following — lies partially in the compelling, often erotic, juxtaposition of an extremely masculine sport and the emotional stakes taken on by its characters. At large, cisgender male erotic fiction (also called slash fic, MLM romance, boylove, or yaoi, for anime lovers and the chronically online) has historically offered an outlet for sexual exploration, community, and LGBTQ acceptance. Fandom scholars and Heated Rivalry show runner Jacob Tierney have explained its popularity with cis women is due in part to the ability of writers to ignore the gendered power dynamics of heterosexual pairings and lean into the rarity of sexual partners being on equal footing — although much of the genre relies on stereotypical tropes that critics say still feeds into gender and racial binaries.

Hockey, in particular, is one of the most popular sports depicted in the genre. As of 2025, the National Hockey League has had no active, out LGBTQ players. So subverting that reality is particularly appealing to fans, especially those in restrictive, patriarchal environments.

One former hockey player, Jesse Kortuem, made headlines just this week, posting a statement about feeling empowered to come out after seeing the success of Heated Rivalry. Kortuem didn't compete for the NHL but told reporters that the homophobia rampant in the sport eventually led him to retire. "I know many closeted and gay men in the hockey world are being hit hard by Heated Rivalry's success," Kortuem told Out. "Never in my life did I think something so positive and loving could come from such a masculine sport."

Riding the runaway success of Heated Rivalry, Rachel Reid is returning fans to the ice: The bestselling author announced that the next installment in her Game Changers series — reuniting beloved rivals-turned-lovers Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander — will be released Sept. 29, 2026.

The novel, titled Unrivaled, had its cover revealed exclusively by People, which reported that the seventh entry in Reid’s Game Changers series will focus on life after happily ever after.

(For fans of the screen adaptation who prefer to avoid spoilers, Unrivaled's plot details may reveal storylines for Season 2 and beyond.)

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Unrivaled finds Ilya and Shane in an entirely new phase of their relationship: Out, married, and even playing on the same team.

What is Unrivaled about?

Unrivaled continues the story of Rozanov and Hollander after the events of 2022's The Long Game (the sixth book in the hockey romance series), following the couple as they navigate life openly for the first time.

Now married and playing on the same team, the superstar hockey players face new challenges that come with visibility, public scrutiny, and shifting dynamics within the sport. The novel explores what comes after a hard-won happily-ever-after and how love holds up when it’s no longer hidden.

Here's the official synopsis:

A line has been drawn—and the hockey world is divided.

For the first time in their professional hockey careers, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander have nothing to hide. For more than a decade, they kept their love a secret, but now they're out, married, and even playing on the same team. The support is incredible.

Most of the time.

They've gotten a lot of love from fans who are thrilled for them. But some people in the hockey world are still reeling from their relationship reveal, and the backlash—led by popular hockey podcast Top Shelf and the #TakeBackHockey movement—is getting louder.

Ilya and Shane are finally able to stand together in the light, the way they'd always wanted. And now they might be facing their biggest challenge yet.

Reid said she was eager to return to the fan-favorite couple, whose popularity has only grown thanks to the massive success of the Heated Rivalry TV adaptation.

"I'm writing this one for all the Hollanov fans, old and new," Reid told People exclusively. "I can't tell you how much the love my characters have received over the years means to me. It has been a blast writing these guys again, and revisiting the entire Game Changers cast."

Scrolling through social media, it’s clear fans are buzzing about Shane and Ilya's return.

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How can I preorder Unrivaled?

Unrivaled is set for release on Sept. 29, 2026. It's available to preorder now in multiple formats, including paperback, Kindle e-book, and Audible audiobook. A Barnes & Noble exclusive edition is also available, featuring a unique cover design, sprayed edges, and bonus content for collectors and fans.

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Credit: Barnes & Noble

Unrivaled (B&N Exclusive Edition) (Game Changers, 7)

$19.99 at Barnes & Noble

 

Pre-order Here

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Credit: Amazon / Harlequin

Unrivaled (Game Changers, 7)

$18.99 at Amazon

 

Pre-order Here

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Credit: Books-A-Million / Harlequin

Unrivaled (Game Changers, 7)

$18.99 at Books-A-Million

 

Pre-order Here

The ice is set, the fans are watching, and Reid is back to give Hollanov fans exactly what they’ve been waiting for. Now the question is: What do we do until September?

For fans eager to tide themselves over, revisiting Heated Rivalry or diving into previous books in the series is the perfect way to keep the Hollanov excitement alive.

Heated Rivalry has audiences hot and bothered and hungry for more. But it'll likely be two years before rival hockey pros Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie) return with Season 2. So what are we to do until then?

Fans are split on this. Some will tell you to plunge into the source material, Rachel Reid's Game Changer book series, which offers several spicy, hockey-centered MLM novels. Others might suggest Ember & Ice, a Quinn audio erotica drop, which reunites Williams and Storrie as winged fairies yearning for each other. (It debuted so big, the app crashed.)

Still others will recommend the "gay fever dream" that is the Interview with the Vampire TV series, as it shares an enemies-to-lovers plotline and Ilya definitely has his Brat Prince moments. However, as a big fan of the Anne Rice-inspired series, I'll warn that Interview with the Vampire is much more about tragedy and trauma than it is queer joy. So, my top recommendation for those thirsting for more of a Heated Rivalry vibe would be the upcoming A24 offering Pillion.

How do Heated Rivalry and Pillion compare?

Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams in the finale of "Heated Rivalry." Credit: Sabrina Lantos / HBO Max

An adorably eager Harry Melling stars as Colin, a timid virgin, who falls hard for a BDSM leather daddy named Ray — played by a strapping Alexander Skarsgård. This English romantic drama has earned buzz on the film festival circuit in 2025. In his review out of Cannes, Siddhant Adlakha called it "some of the most entertaining drama and comedy you're likely to see this year."

It's also hot, funny, and moving. But even at a glance, Pillion and Heated Rivalry have some striking similarities. Both Heated Rivalry and Pillion are based on novels; the former Rachel Reid's book of the same name, the latter Adam Mars-Jones's Box Hill. As Heated Rivalry was created by Jacob Tierney and Pillion written and directed by Harry Lighton, both adaptations are not only queer MLM romances with graphic sex scenes, but are also made by gay men.

Beyond that, their plotlines have a lot in common: A dark-haired young man who is very close to his parents falls for a swaggering, macho blonde who seems his polar opposite. To the surprise of others, they become lovers, thanks to the blonde initiating their first sexual encounter and being his new partner's first top. Though their relationship is initially about sex, they will grow to care for each other, leading to an awkward family meal where the blonde gets to know his lover's parents (for better or worse!).

However, from this meet-the-parents point Pillion speeds down a different path. While Colin and Ray won't ride off into the sunset like Shane and Ilya, Pillion is nonetheless a story of queer joy — but also kink.

Pillion offers BDSM kink, yearning, and heart.

Harry Melling's "Pillion character poster." Credit: A24

Alexander Skarsgård's "Pillion" character poster. Credit: A24

Who says BDSM can't be sweet? Often, in the media, the kinks that involve bondage, dominance, discipline, submission, sadism, or masochism are painted with a scandalous brush that regards them as depraved and dangerous. The Fifty Shades trilogy was released with much hand-wringing over a woman surrendering herself to BDSM dominance by a man. House of Hammer, a documentary exposé about Armie Hammer, misrepresented the BDSM community by positing it as a space ripe for misogynistic abuse. And the Hellraiser franchise has been turning BDSM gear and the pleasure/pain dynamic into nightmare fuel since 1987. Occasionally, however, a movie comes along that showcases such kinks without condemnation, instead celebrating the pleasure found in the pain, the joy found in giving in, and the intimacy that can bloom between a dominant and a submissive. Following in the footsteps of such pro-BDSM film as Secretary and Babygirl comes Pillion. But unlike its sisters in kink, this offering has men in the dom and sub roles.

Like Heated Rivalry, Pillion is a tale of opposites attract that is hot, hilarious, and heartwarming. (But first and foremost: hot!) From the very start of Lighton's film, the stark contrast between his lovers is comically clear in how they present themselves to the world.

Their meet-cute is at an English pub, where Colin (Melling, who famously played Dudley Dursley in the Harry Potter movies) is crooning in a tweed hat and pastel-striped blazer, performing as part of a barbershop quartet alongside his dad (Douglas Hodge). It's a wholesome hobby that actually reflects the earnestness of Colin in all things, even his emerging interest in kink. Which is piqued by the tall, strapping blonde called Ray (Skarsgård) who's playing darts in the corner with a gang of rowdy bikers, all snug in leather, metal, and fetish gear.

When Ray makes a move on Colin, he's as shocked and titillated as a blushing Shane was when Ilya got randy in the showers. Unlike Shane Hollander, Colin is out to his family, so he is quick to tell his parents that he has a date with a biker. (They're so supportive that Colin's dad lends him a leather jacket to wear — ill-fitting though it may be!)

Where meeting the parents is the emotional climax of Heated Rivalry, it's the midway point of Ray and Colin's journey. With a firm hand, Ray leads Colin by the dog collar into a dom-sub relationship, demanding the young man be submissive, including cooking, cleaning, dressing to Ray's liking (in leather and metal), and surrendering his body for wrestling foreplay and anal sex.

New to this BDSM scene, Colin is often wide-eyed and awkward, but always consenting. Their first sexual encounter is subversive, sensual, and so fumbling that it's laugh-out-loud funny. Yet Pillion never urges the audience to laugh at Colin. Instead, the deep empathy of Lighton's approach and Melling's vulnerable performance urge us all to imagine ourselves in Colin's shoes. Who among us hasn't had a crush that made us willing to risk looking like a fool? Like Shane, Colin is earnest and vulnerable in his longing and eventually loving of his partner. But unlike Shane, Colin never experiences any shame for his queerness or desires.

Pillion and Heated Rivalry use sex as a tool of self-discovery.

Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams share a shower in "Heated Rivalry." Credit: Sabrina Lantos / HBO Max

Both romances portray lovers who learn more about themselves through their sexual relationship with each other. Colin's journey, however, is not about coming to terms with being queer. It's about opening himself up to new experiences, and then setting boundaries as he understands what he wants.

For much of the film, he's happy to go along with whatever Ray wants. But as their relationship evolves, Colin doesn't just "yes and" all of Ray's commands, but pushes back, demanding more emotional intimacy. Now, their "cottage" moment is less private, more provocative — involving full frontal nudity and group sex — but still sweet. On a picnic table at a camping retreat, Ray gives in to Colin's need for more romance while meeting his need for BDSM kink. And watching them both thrill in this moment is as exciting as when Ilya says he's going to Shane's cottage.

Pillion won't probe Ray's psyche as deeply as Heated Rivalry does Ilya's. There will be no tragic backstory and little idea of what Ray does outside of Colin. Yet Ray doesn't feel unknowable because of Skarsgård's nuanced performance. While Melling offers a portrait that is so vulnerable you may well blush to see his exposed wanting, Skarsgård seems initially a snarling sex god. But as Ray lets Colin into his home, Skarsgård works a glint of softness and excitement into Ray's aloof demeanor. In these moments of flickering vulnerability, we get a sense of who Ray is outside of his persona as a dom. And surprisingly, it'll be Colin who pushes Ray out of his comfort zone.

Lighton's script bonds us to Colin, urging us to understand the thrill of discovery of kink, the swoon of being under the grip of an astoundingly hot lover, and the trembling fear of not being enough to keep them happy. But it's when Colin brings Ray into his world that a new side of this smoldering dom unlocks. It's a sequence that feels more rom-com than anything in Heated Rivalry, the kind of sequence you could imagine in a Richard Curtis movie, climaxing in a gleeful, affectionate tumble in a public park. And then comes a moment, small and unspoken but definitive. Their relationship will never, can never, be the same.

Alexander Skarsgård dominates in the kinkiest and sweetest movie of the year.

Harry Melling and Alexander Skarsgård go on a first date in "Pillion." Credit: A24

But it's Melling who makes Pillion a marvel. Scenes of Ray's seduction will make the audience swoon, yet it's Melling's dedicated openness that makes Pillion feel authentic instead of like some splashy Hollywood fantasy. This isn't 50 Shades of Gray sleek and glamourous. This is wilder, richer, and infinitely more enthralling. Pillion is not only sexy and exciting, but also funny, poignant, and a shining beacon to all those trembling about letting their freak flag fly. 

Perhaps Ray is how we might wish to seem to a new partner, mysterious and breathtakingly cool. Colin is how we might fear being seen, so earnest that it’s “cringe.” Like Heated Rivalry, these two very different lovers represent mystique and openness. One will draw you in, but you need the other to keep a relationship growing. Whether it's Shane and Ilya or Colin and Ray, this is the lesson of both romances.

This tricky emotional growth is often glossed over in Hollywood sex scenes with a sweeping orchestral score and chaste coverage. Yet, these stories of gay men in love offer nudity, graphic sex, romantic fantasy, and in the end, an earnest, unapologetic reality. The English film and Canadian series are bolder and yet more delicate, and thereby electrifying and life-affirming.

Both these queer relationships begin with a risky hook-up, then grow through chemistry and an embrace of sex and exploration. Through these steamy and ardent romances, Pillion and Heated Rivalry challenge us: What more might we experience and enjoy if we — like the lovers themselves — dared to open ourselves up? 

Heated Rivalry is now on HBO Max. Pillion opens in theaters on Feb. 6.

Online dating as a lesbian can be a joyous experience, but it can also involve having your space invaded by straight people or seeing your ex-girlfriends (and your ex-girlfriends' ex-girlfriends) show up in your feed over and over.

Over the decades, queer women have turned to personal ads, frequented bars, and relied on word of mouth to find love. These days, it's not too different. From trying to find a date on WLW TikTok to entrapranureal lesbians creating new apps just for them, LGBTQ women are down to get creative to find their special someone.

Thankfully, in 2026, there are both niche and general apps where queer women can find a partner — whether for one night or for life. Which ones are the best dating apps for lesbians? We tested the most popular dating sites and apps and got some insight from our Dating & Relationships writers to find out.

How to find the best dating apps for lesbians

Niche lesbian dating apps aren't your only option for finding love. Credit: Stacey Zhu / Mashable

Mainstream dating apps attract the most users — including queer users. That means niche lesbian dating apps aren't your only options for finding love. These days, Hinge, Bumble, OkCupid, and even eharmony all have clear filters to help you match with people of the same gender (or any gender at all), as well as filters that acknowledge the existence of non-traditional relationships (like polyamory). Especially if you don't live in a densely populated area, going for the more popular dating apps over lesbian dating sites can often lead to more results.

With that said, there is one dating app lesbian women should try. HER is an app by and for queer women, and it's grown to have a strong user base. According to its website, the app has more than 15 million registered users worldwide. The app also emphasizes finding community and making friends, in addition to dating, providing you with numerous ways to connect with other queer women and non-binary users.

Check out our guide below for the full rundown of our recommendations and dating app reviews.

If you identify as straight but are open to queer experiences, you're not alone. You may be called "heteroflexible," a portmanteau that signals being "mostly straight" with a flexibility towards same-sex attraction. 

And according to Feeld, "heteroflexible" is the fastest-growing sexuality on the hookup app — 193 percent in 2025. Switching between heteroflexible and straight is one of the most common sexuality shifts, the app stated in its Feeld Raw 2025 report, with millennials making up almost two-thirds of total heteroflexible members (65 percent), and Gen Z at 18 percent.

What does heteroflexibility mean?

There's no objective definition of heteroflexibility. In fact, it hasn't yet been used in the scientific study of the psychology of sexual orientation, said Pavel S. Blagov, Ph.D, professor of psychology at Whitman College.

One of the earliest cited writings on the term, by then-professor of sociology at Yale University Laurie Essig, was published by Salon in 2000. Essig, now a professor at Middlebury College, defined heteroflexibility as when someone "has or intends to have a primarily heterosexual lifestyle, with a primary sexual and emotional attachment to someone of the opposite sex." But, as Essig continued, "that person remains open to sexual encounters and even relationships with persons of the same sex."

As much as 15 percent of the American population may identify as heteroflexible, according to a 2019 study. 

What's the origin of the term "heteroflexibility"?

The exact genesis of the term "heteroflexible" is unknown, but it's been used as early as the 1990s. In the 1997 humor glossary of LGBTQ slang When Drag is Not a Car Race, heteroflexibility is defined as "bisexual, or at least open to sexual experimentation."

Heteroflexible appeared to pick up steam on college campuses in the early 2000s, as displayed in Essig's Salon article. A 2002 dispatch from The Buffalo News declared heteroflexbile the "hot term being bandied about on campus," and defined it as "the condition of being not fully bisexual but open to adventure."

How is heteroflexibility used today?

Today, people seem to use the term differently, said Blagov, and its use is being studied by scholars in gender studies, sociology, and public health. 

"The concept seems to have different meanings across individuals and in different corners of popular culture," he continued. There are several facets of sexual orientation that one may use heteroflexibility to refer to: someone's identity, their sexual desires, their sexual behavior, or something else, or a combination of these. 

Based on various sources online, Blagov senses that someone who describes themselves as heteroflexible may be trying to convey one or more of these concepts: "Some degree of attraction to the same sex; some degree of interest in same-sex sexual behavior; a positive attitude toward diversity in sexual orientation; an open mind about different identities; that they owe some allegiance to a heterosexual or straight identity; and that they do not identify as bisexual or homosexual." 

He also cited sociologist Héctor Carrillo and contributor Amanda Hoffman, who researched sexualities of American men in an aptly titled study, Straight with a pinch of bi. On one hand, Carrillo and Hoffman wrote, terms like heteroflexibility and "bi-curious" represent a renewed sense of sexual identity among young straight Americans with same-sex desire — and possibly a search for public recognition and societal acceptance. 

At the same time, Carrillo argued, by not adopting a queer identity like bisexual, heteroflexible people seek to remain in the "heterosexual category." They want an indication that same-sex desire and behavior "are not altogether incompatible with heterosexuality."

Blagov reiterated that heteroflexibility isn't currently an established concept in the scientific study of psychology. "It is not referring to how a person's mind works or any objectively defined way in which people differ," he said. At least currently, it doesn't indicate a proven difference among people. Rather, it's a label people have started using to describe themselves and others. 

The use of heteroflexible also likely differs across individuals and groups, and — like our definition of so many other words — may change over time.

Is heteroflexibility just bisexuality?

Heteroflexibility, Essig wrote, "is a rejection of bisexuality since the inevitable question that comes up in bisexuality is one of preference, and the preference of the heteroflexible is quite clear."

At first, Essig said she was pissed at the term. "I resented the fact that they [young people] would root their marginal sexual practices in the safety of heterosexuality," she said. Then, after reflecting, she embraced it because in her view, it could bring an end to heterosexuality's dominance. In the future, Essig mused, everyone would be flexible.

Other scholars, however, don't have such a rosy view of the term. In a 2009 article about queer representation in the media, media and communications professor Lisa Blackman wrote that "heteroflexible" serves to expand the boundaries of the "heterosexual" label rather than to normalize queer identities. Flexibility is merely a "temporary interruption" of heterosexual desire, a "break from the routine."

Blackman goes on to say that the idea of flexibility serves to support the agency of heterosexual people, but not queer people. Queer attraction, at least in media at the time of Blackman's writing, was seen as something novel for straight people (primarily women) to experience. She cites two examples — Samantha Jones in Sex and the City and Jessica in Kissing Jessica Stein — as characters who flirted with homosexuality, but only temporarily.

Does "heteroflexibility" describe queer desire in terms of...straightness? In Blackman's sense, yes, said Andrew Cheng, assistant professor in the department of linguistics at the University of Hawai'i at Mānoa (previously a postdoctoral researcher in the Department of Linguistics at Simon Fraser University). 

While this argument is an academic look into film and television at the time, other queer people have decried the term for similar reasons. Writer Charlie Williams said in Affinity Magazine that the word heteroflexible erases bi identities, saying both heteroflexible and the opposite, homoflexible, are just "fancy words" for bisexual. Another writer, Kravitz M., called for people who feel attraction to multiple genders to question why they don't call themselves bi, and claimed it might be because of internalized biphobia.

For some, any flexibility is a deviation from the heterosexual standard and will be judged negatively, particularly for men who experience bi erasure, according to Dr. Luke Brunning, a lecturer in applied ethics at the University of Leeds and co-director of the Centre for Love, Sex, and Relationships. "For others, perhaps those firmly within the queer community, heteroflexibility might be viewed with suspicion, as indicative of a reticence to be open about someone's 'true' bisexuality, for example, or as evidence of internalized homophobia."

It's important to remember, though, that the meanings and uses of identity labels change quickly — especially in the internet age — and that identities are dependent on local communities, said Cheng. 

"The rise in heteroflexibility as an identification among, say, rural men in the Midwest today, might be very different from how it was used by city-dwelling college students in the nineties," he continued.

Further, without much psychological research, it's hard to speculate why someone may identify as heteroflexible (or bi-curious or "mostly straight") instead of a queer identity, said Blagov. 

For some people, the term "heteroflexible" accurately describes how they experience attraction or behave, said Brunning, who provided insights for Feeld. (Brunning was also interviewed by Mashable in 2020 for his book on non-monogamy). For others, he continued, it might be a "promise-to-self," something they want to look into further or explore.

All this to say, there's no "correct" use of heteroflexible. It may not be its own sexual orientation — it's been long known that sexual attraction can fall somewhere between hetero and homosexual — but anyone is free to identify as such. Sexuality, like language itself, can be flexible.

This article was originally published in 2022 and republished in 2026 with new information.

By the time Quinn's newest audio erotica series starring Heated Rivalry fan favorites Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie finally dropped, the anticipation had already reached an actual breaking point. Within hours of the release of the first two episodes, the Quinn app went down, briefly buckling under the weight of fans who had been waiting mere days to hear the pair reunited.

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Ember & Ice marks Quinn's first-ever duet original, shifting the app's usual listener-centric intimacy into a fully dramatized MM romance. Dane (Storrie) and Finn (Williams) rival fae princes locked in a forbidden, years-long affair. A heart-pounding queer romantasy story narrated by a pairing that already carries deep emotional weight for fans was never going to arrive quietly.

The format change, combined with Williams and Storrie's established chemistry from Heated Rivalry, turned the release into a fandom event — one that spilled immediately onto social media as listeners reacted in real-time to every whimper and carefully placed inhale.

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What Ember & Ice ultimately highlights is the power of fandom continuity, how voices and chemistry can carry emotional meaning across projects and formats. Since premiering in late November, Heated Rivalry has rapidly evolved from a new release into an online obsession, effectively launching Williams and Storrie’s careers in real-time.

The appetite driving that momentum — especially among women eager for more erotic, chemistry-forward content — was strong enough to overwhelm Quinn's servers. With Ember & Ice's third and final episode set for Jan. 6, the question isn't whether fans will return, but whether the app is ready for them.

Heated Rivalry, HBO Max's gay hockey series that has everyone I know losing their minds, is finally — and sadly — coming to an end. But don't worry: It's just the finale of Season 1. We still have at least two more seasons of hockey smut to look forward to.

The Canadian import from streamer Crave, based on Rachel Reid's queer romance novels, burst onto screens in late November and wasted no time earning its cult obsession status. The series delivers on every front: scorching chemistry between rising stars Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie; refreshingly honest depictions of LGBTQ athletes; polished production and strong performances; and, of course, an abundance of unapologetically horny encounters that have launched a thousand group chats.

The obsession isn't just anecdotal, either. By the second week of December, Heated Rivalry had climbed to become the third most-watched series on HBO Max, Mashable reported earlier this month — a testament to just how hard viewers have fallen for this rink-side romance.

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So if you, like seemingly everyone clogging up your social media feed, are counting down the minutes to the Jacob Tierney–helmed show's finale, you’re in luck.

The final episode of Heated Rivalry drops at midnight tonight — Friday, Dec. 26, 2025 (that’s 12:00 a.m. EST or 9:00 p.m. PT on Thursday, Dec. 25). Consider it a holiday miracle. Frankly, it’s the Christmas present we all deserved.

Dropped onto HBO Max in late Nov. with almost zero promotion, the gay hockey series Heated Rivalry is everywhere these days. The show's handsome stars, Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie, are dominating social feeds, with a growing legion of fans salivating over the chemistry between their characters, two extremely talented and closeted NHL players. As of Dec. 11, Heated Rivalry sits as the third most-watched series on HBO Max, behind only Mad Men and IT: Welcome to Derry.

What is it about this Canadian show that has captured the public's attention in a way few other recent series have? Yes, it's a rare gay love story on TV, and it depicts the often-untold tales of LGBTQ athletes. The acting is good, as are the production values. Undeniably, though, it's the show's depictions of sex, mostly between Williams' and Storrie's characters, that's pulling in viewers. Their trysts feel different than same-sex "lovemaking" in other notable LGBTQ shows, like Queer as Folk, The L Word, and, more recently, Heartstopper.

The nature of the characters' relationship is certainly part of it — their sexual congress is beyond illicit. If the public were to find out the League's two best players were sleeping together (and were, maybe, in love?), it could wreck their careers and even endanger their lives. The high stakes equate to intense passion.

It's also to the testament of series creator Jacob Tierney that the sex comes off as authentic and hot. He cast two charismatic leads (who seem to actually like each other in real life) and filmed them beautifully in luxe hotel rooms. Heated Rivalry's lighting is warm and sensual, though HBO Max did darken the show (inadvertently, Tierney maintains), including its sex scenes, from the original Canadian version. The camera stays on the men during the actual intercourse, with no burning candles or hand-holding for suggestion. When the characters of Shane and Ilya give in to their passion, it's less Red, White, & Royal Blue (e.g., soap opera-style timidity) and much more Blue Is the Warmest Color (close-ups, noises, and occasional awkwardness).

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Zachary Zane, Grindr's sex and relationship expert, heaped praise on Heated Rivalry's depiction of gay lust:

"First off, the show masterfully builds suspense and sexual tension, perhaps more so than previous depictions of queer sex on screen. It adopts a slow-burn approach, characterized by constant furtive glances and intense pining between Ilya and Shane, with Shane's longing being particularly noticeable. The viewer can see the sexual tension and desire on their pretty faces.

Two, the production value is also incredibly high. The soft lighting and shadows add a sensual and suspenseful element we didn't get nearly as much of in past queer shows.

Three, the dynamic between Ilya and Shane is a major draw. Their enemies-to-lovers trope is an inherently popular and arousing romance staple, but it's more than that. Shane leans a bit submissive, being coy about his wants while dancing around his anxieties. Ilya is this powerhouse, emotionally-avoidant dom with a sexy accent, deep voice, and adventurous mindset for public trysts. If only we could see their Grindr tags.

While sexual fantasies and desires naturally vary among queer men, this particular dom/sub dynamic is a common interest amongst most gay and bisexual men, who can identify with either Ilya, Shane, or perhaps even both."

Heated Rivalry's fourth episode (of six) drops tomorrow, Dec. 12, on HBO Max.

Apple shaped how entire generations think about technology. For many of us, its products symbolized creativity and progress. The company taught us to “Think Different” and to believe technology could make life better. But today, Apple’s actions tell a different story — when ethics collide with revenue, Apple folds.

In 2014, Tim Cook came out as gay and positioned it as a moral stand. Apple wrapped itself in Pride flags, marketed inclusion, and sold us the idea that it stood for something bigger than profit. The company seemed to embrace the fact that Apple is the first Fortune 500 company with an openly gay CEO. Tim Cook even authored a piece in Bloomberg Business stating that he is, "proud to be gay."

Fast forward to now, when Apple quietly removed two of the largest gay dating apps in China, Blued and Finka, at Beijing’s request. No statement. No defense of queer communities. Just silent compliance. 

This isn’t an isolated decision. It’s a pattern.

When ethics collide with revenue

Apple’s support of marginalized communities seems to collapse under pressure. Take child sexual abuse material (CSAM). In 2021, Apple admitted that verified images and videos of children being sexually abused were stored on iCloud. Because they knew it was a problem, they developed a privacy-protected, vetted-by-independent-experts detection system to stop it. They proudly announced their plan in August 2021 and then 30 days later paused the roll out.

Apple commissioned their own cryptography experts to confirm the system safeguarded privacy. Independent reviewers like David Forsyth and Benny Pinkas agreed: No innocent user data would be exposed. Yet Apple abandoned the plan after backlash over privacy concerns, retreating to arguments it had previously dismantled.

Apple's pivot to services like iCloud has made subscriptions a core revenue driver, generating nearly $100 billion annually with gross margins around 75 percent. Despite this profitability, Apple has still not implemented a meaningful solution to stop the spread of known CSAM, leaving iCloud as one of the few major cloud platforms that does not proactively detect known CSAM. This failure has sparked lawsuits from thousands of survivors who argue Apple's decision enables predators to pay for storage of abuse imagery, effectively monetizing their trauma. By contrast, companies like Google deploy industry-standard safeguards, combining hash-matching against NCMEC databases and AI to detect and report CSAM at scale. Apple's refusal to implement similar measures underscores a gap: While profiting from cloud services, it has not ensured those services are free from exploitation.

This isn’t just complacency. It’s negligence.

Ethics shouldn’t be optional

It’s easy to do the right thing when it sells. Pride campaigns drive revenue, but only when the White House is lit up rainbow or consumer trends value ethics. But standing up for queer communities in China when the government is challenging you to stand on the side of oppression? That’s harder. Tackling child abuse on your own platform? That’s riskier. Apple will remove LGBTQ+ apps to appease Beijing without putting up a fight, but won’t take decisive action against child predators. 

Apple doesn’t "Think Different" anymore. It thinks profit. And until we demand better, it will keep choosing power over people.

What needs to change

Apple has the resources and expertise to lead on both fronts — protecting vulnerable communities and safeguarding children online. It could implement proven, privacy-conscious CSAM detection tools developed by experts at Thorn, NCMEC, and Johns Hopkins’ MOORE Center. It could take a public stand against censorship that erases LGBTQ+ lives. Instead, it has chosen silence and inaction.

Regulators, investors, and consumers must hold Apple accountable. Tech companies should not be allowed to monetize harm while hiding behind branding campaigns. Ethics cannot be optional in the digital age.

This article reflects the opinions of the writers.

Lennon Torres is a Public Voices Fellow on Prevention of Child Sexual Abuse with The OpEd Project. She is an LGBTQ+ advocate who grew up in the public eye, gaining national recognition as a young dancer on television shows. With a deep passion for storytelling, advocacy, and politics, Lennon now works to center the lived experience of herself and others as she crafts her professional career in online child safety at Heat Initiative. The opinions reflected in this piece are those of Lennon Torres as an individual and not of the entities she is part of. Lennon’s substack: https://substack.com/@lennontorres

Sarah Gardner is Founder and CEO of the Heat Initiative. With more than 13 years of technical and policy expertise in online child safety, she is an internationally recognized voice in advocating for the rights of children and survivors of child sexual abuse. Heat Initiative is an organization of technology experts, parents, survivors and advocates who believe strongly that tech companies like Apple and Meta need to remove CSAM from their platforms and implement policies that will keep children safe online.

Cards on the table, it’s been a gloriously slutty year. There’s no shame in hiding it. I’ve been single longer than one hand can tally, and I’d kill for a dual income to upgrade my lifestyle here in Chicago. On the plus side, I get to live shamelessly doing whatever I want, which lately includes testing gay dating apps for Mashable. But recently, the same old dating apps have become a bit choppy. 

Grindr ads are killing me; the gays on Hinge all lie about having boats; and thanks to a former stalker of mine, I’ve been banned from Tinder for almost a decade. But, that’s a different story. I’ve been looking for a new way to have casual sex, and I might be a little late to the game, but Jesus H. Christ, Sniffies — where the hell have you been hiding?

For the gays still blissfully unaware of the seedy circus that is Sniffies, just know it makes Grindr look like something your mom would pull up at Sunday brunch. In comparison to Sniffies, Grindr keeps your feed rather tame — faceless torsos, struggling actors’ headshots, blank profiles, and if you’re lucky, some muscle jock’s butt. Despite Grindr's NSFW reputation, it's nothing you couldn’t post on Instagram. 

Sniffies, on the other hand? Cocks. Everywhere. Hole. As far as the eye can see. All plastered on a blue map of your area. Face pics feel borderline illegal, because this is an app designed for sex and absolutely nothing else. And, you can find it in seconds. Even the best hookup apps could never work this fast. The first time I used the “app” (I’ll speak more on why that’s in quotes in a bit), I had a man over from around the corner and in my apartment in less than five minutes. It was almost too easy.

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Credit: Mashable Photo Composite

Use Sniffies Anonymously

 

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How does Sniffies work?

Alright, so, you can’t get Sniffies in the App Store anymore, thanks to Apple’s famously prudish guidelines. Bummer. I know. Instead, you have to use whatever browser you’ve got on your phone or laptop and head to the Sniffies website. You’re prompted with the option to either create a profile or cruise anonymously. If you make a profile, you can basically do everything you’d do on any gay dating app — set your preferences, drop a bio, broadcast your kinks, casually note your stance on fisting, you get the picture — only here the big question is, “How much nudity should I show in my profile?”

When your profile is complete, you’re graced with the Sniffies cruising map. Profiles appear in little circles, almost like pins. You can click on any profile and message any guy you’re interested in meeting IRL. You’ll also get access to popular cruising locations around town, which you may or may not have even known were cruising areas. (Editor’s note: In New York City, we’ve heard credible reports that the NYPD is using Sniffies to arrest gay men at popular cruising destinations, so cruise accordingly.) After using Sniffies, I’ll never look at my local home improvement store bathroom the same again.

Some of these locations are set in public parks, businesses, and the like. Obviously, cruising in places like this is not legal, and I definitely don't recommend breaking the law to meet guys. That's not me being coy, either. No matter how much you might want to, it’s probably not wise to meet up and get drilled by the 6’4” daddy asking you to meet somewhere you definitely shouldn’t.

You’ll also see a number of men hosting sex parties, group jerkoff sessions, gloryholes, and more. These are typically planned in advance, and you’ll have to ask the group host if you can attend. He’ll probably say yes, and can you bring any friends?

Unlike most gay dating apps, even if you don’t make a profile, you can still access everything on Sniffies right away. While that can be convenient, please protect your privacy accordingly. However, as a free user, you’ll only be able to send photos of yourself in the chat. This is great for all you DL men with wives. And, yes, I am judging you.

Should I get Sniffies?

Hey, that’s up to you — but here’s what you need to do. Be careful. People on Sniffies are on Sniffies for one thing and one thing only: to have sex with you. You will find sex as a gay man (or trans person, y’all can hop on, too!) through Sniffies, just make sure you’re doing so safely and not getting yourself into any trouble. Fun is fun when it’s fun, just use your brain, even as all your blood rushes elsewhere. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. And, for the love of God — get tested regularly.

If you do want to give it a shot, just head to the Sniffies website.

Online dating as a gay man is a rite of passage, from the Craigslist m4m era to today's endless scroll. But for all the high rewards, even the best dating apps come with a unique set of challenges for gay men: ghosting, catfishing, straight guys who shouldn't be in your feed, and even some not-so-subtle fetishization. It's a lot to take in when you're just trying to find a genuine connection.

Yet, despite the BS, the best gay dating apps are still one of the main ways to meet new people, especially if you're gay or bisexual. Pew Research found that about one in four LGBTQ+ adults met their partner online, a much higher rate than for straight people.

Of course, we can't talk about gay dating without talking about Grindr. It's still the undisputed king of gay dating apps, even if the user experience has been suffering of late. The free version of Grindr is now stuffed full of ads, leaving many guys longing for an alternative. Plus, because of its well-deserved reputation as one of the top hookup apps, it's not always the best option for making a love connection.

"Grindr is a tried and true app that many queer men gravitate toward to find partners or for relationships that require lesser commitment, so it’s easy to point to it as the No. 1 app," Michelle Herzog, LMFT, AASECT-certified sex therapist, tells Mashable. "However, like Tinder, it’s gained a reputation as a hookup app — but that doesn’t mean there still aren’t men looking for long-term commitments, either."

The good news is that the gay dating app landscape is bigger than Grindr. Mainstream apps like Hinge and OkCupid have made huge strides in inclusivity, while niche apps like Scruff and Feeld cater to specific communities, kinks, and desires. The key is figuring out which one is actually worth your time. So, here's our authoritative guide to the best dating apps for gay men in 2025.

Recent additions to this dating app guide include:

• Feeld: As of October 2025, we've added Feeld to this guide as our top pick for "Best for Kink and Threesomes."

• Hinge: As of October 2025, we've added Hinge as another alternative to Archer, as it's also great for finding serious relationships. We've selected it as the best gay dating app for younger guys as well, due to its popularity with Gen Z.

Which gay dating apps didn't make the cut?

You'll notice a few well-known apps are missing from our main list. Here's why they didn't make our "best of" guide.

• Raya: We know, Raya is the "celebrity dating app," but we're not recommending it. Why? Because, as our own Chance Townsend discovered, its exclusivity is "a bit overhyped." After shelling out $25 per month, he found the vibe "so Tinder-esque," and the user pool wasn't A-list celebs but "consultants, aspiring actors, medical professionals, recruiters, and even students." The consensus: Raya is basically "an expensive Tinder with a better PR team." Save your money.

• Recon: Recon has a reputation as the app for the kink community, but we've opted to leave it off the list. User reviews on Reddit are brutal. One thread described the app as "really buggy" and "not much activity on there anymore." Users in that thread complained that the app is a "waste of time," full of flakes, "catfish," and "fake doms wanting you to be their slave or boy." Other users noted that "a lot of kink/fetish guys have moved on to Instagram, Twitter/X, [or] OnlyFans" or that mainstream apps like Scruff are now "more open and welcoming spaces" for the community.

• Planet Romeo (now Romeo): Planet Romeo (which took over the old Guys4Men, or g4m, site ) is another legacy app we didn't include. While it was once a go-to for finding meaningful relationships, particularly in India and parts of Europe, it's now mostly seen as an app from a bygone era. Reddit threads on the topic are full of nostalgia for the "age of Planet Romeo" and the "slow communication" of the early 2000s. It's just not a primary app for most guys in 2025.

What was it like to be raised Romero? "I sat on a zombie's lap before I met a mall Santa," Tina Romero told Mashable Entertainment Editor Kristy Puchko on the Say More couch.

With her debut feature Queens of the Dead, Tina Romero continues a family legacy of zombie love. The daughter of George A. Romero, who defined zombies with films like Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, and Day of the Dead, brings this monster to a modern and definitively queer arena, inspired by her own experiences.

When Romero stopped by Mashable's Say More studio, she told us all about the queer joys of making zombies her own. You can hear about it in the full interview on YouTube.

Romero also shared an insight into what growing up was like when your dad is a horror master. "People do ask me all the time," she said, "'Was your childhood a little fucked up?' And I say, 'No, no, no. It wasn't the zombies that messed me up. It was Santa Claus.'"

Romero went on to explain how her father used his skills in filmmaking and and practical effects to sell his kids on Santa's existence. "My dad was [a] really creative, detail-oriented, wonderful Santa Claus," she shared, revealing how her father made a wallet full of preciously detailed props to prove it was Santa's billfold that had been left behind after dropping off gifts. But that's not all.

"The cookies were eaten, but there were just these special, special details. If there was a note, there was a wax [seal]. It was so legit," she went on, adding that the elder Romero even staged a Santa visit to be caught on a camera.

"They put a camera at the top of the staircase and in real time let it play out," she recalled. "So they waited until like 3 a.m., and my dad had his friend come in with, like, a pillow under the suit, do the thing at the tree. And then he rigged the lighting outside our house so that there was a gobo [a cutout placed on a light] with a silhouette of a sleigh taking off outside the window. Like, he did a full-on production."

See Tina Romero follow in her father's footsteps with her full-on production of queens that slay in Queens of the Dead.

Queens of the Dead is now in theaters.

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As Elvira, Cassandra Peterson has become a true icon, headlining comedies like Elvira: Mistress of the Dark and Elvira's Haunted Hills, hosting hordes of TV B-movie presentations, appearing in comic books, and much, much more. Now, Peterson is resurrecting her Valley girl vamp for Elvira's Cookbook from Hell, a charming coffee table book that boasts goth recipes, glossy photos, crafting guides, and very Elvira-style hosting etiquette.

Peterson came by Mashable's Say More couch for an interview with Entertainment Editor Kristy Puchko. Together, they dive into all things Elvira, including her new cookbook, how her dear(ly departed) friend and fellow horror icon Vincent Price was an inspiration, and drag queens.

Having guest judged on RuPaul's Drag Race "Monster Ball" and The Boulet Brothers' Dragula: Titans "Halloween House Party," Peterson was happy to draw a connection between her Elvira character and the queens. "I do everything drag queens do," she said of putting together her goth goddess look, "except 'tuck'!"

Peterson also shared how Elvira's Cookbook from Hell has been a dream project for thirty years, dating back to Martha Stewart's rise. Loving to cook and host herself, Peterson began to pitch a cookbook for the goth crowd — but publishers wouldn't bite. Little did they understand the vision she had, not for a Halloween-specific cookbook, but for one that brings goth flare and Elvira's spirited sense of humor to every occasion, from a graveside picnic to a spooky cocktail hour to a chic and macabre wedding complete with a multi-tier cake. (Please note the Black Widow Smashes that Puchko tested and tasted to prepare for the interview.)

Puchko, who's long been burrowing through Price's cookbooks, wondered if he was an inspiration for a particular cucumber-based recipe in Elvira's Cookbook from Hell. From there, Peterson shared a story of how Price was the source of a recipe that didn't make the final draft of her book, but is treasured by her nonetheless. Dare you give it a try?

Watch our full Say More video to learn more about Elvira, Peterson's cookbook, and how you're not getting the most out of a dishwasher unless you're using it to steam your entree.

Elvira's Cookbook from Hell is now on sale.

Toni Collette is a queer icon in that she's a cinematic diva that LGBTQ+ audiences have long worshipped. Be it her offbeat humor in Muriel's Wedding, her maternal intensity in Hereditary, or her smoking hot party girl theatrics in Velvet Goldmine, we're obsessed. So when Mashable Entertainment Editor Kristy Puchko sat down with the cast and creator of Netflix's new queer drama Wayward, she asked Collette about being an icon.

"I have been told this from time to time," Collette said in a group interview with co-stars Sarah Gadon and Mae Martin, "What an honor!"

From there, Martin, who also created Wayward, dug into what it means to have a mini-series with queer characters in which their gender identity or sexual orientation isn't an issue. In Wayward, Martin stars as Alex, a trans man who's recently moved with his wife, Laura (Gadon), back to her former home in Tall Pines, Vermont.

There, the local reformatory school, Tall Pines Academy, is run with an iron fist by a beguiling matriarchal figure named Evelyn Wade (Collette, of course). Twisted practices within the school have besties Leila (Alyvia Alyn Lind) and Abbie (Sydney Topliffe) desperate to get out. But for all the behaviors this reform school is looking to break its students from, queerness isn't among them. So, bi Leila can explore new romances with relative freedom. Likewise, Alex and Laura are embraced by the cheery townspeople of Tall Pines. In fact, Laura's pregnancy has not only the expecting parents excited, but also Evelyn, and everyone else in town.

While creating the mysteries and drama of Wayward, Martin offers LGBTQ+ representation without falling into the tropes of conflating queerness with tragedy through painful coming-out stories or harmful homophobia. They said of this, "I mean, in my life, I feel like my queerness is one of the least interesting things about me, probably. I always want to reflect that," adding, "If you break people's walls down, then they can really relate to other aspects of the character's lives. Then you can kind of secretly sneak in your subversive stuff."

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For Martin's onscreen role in Wayward, they said, "I think for my character, Alex, being in this town that is so progressive and welcoming on the surface, I'm really interested in how desperate he is to be accepted and belong and how badly he wants that heteronormativity and what he's willing to sacrifice."

Collette added that the queer content in Wayward "is not sensationalized. Everyone is just a person making their way, no matter what their preferences are or who they identify as."

In a separate interview with Alyvia Alyn Lind and Sydney Topliffe, the former spoke to how it was "awesome" to play a bi girl for whom sexuality was an element of but not an issue for the character. "It's not her main struggle," she explained, "It's not the reason that she's having problems in her life. She has a lot of problems in her life, but none of them really stem from that. It's not her trauma."

Lind continued, "I had a conversation with GLAAD recently, just about the statistics of bi representation in TV, and it's very unrepresented. So getting to play the character was just so incredible."

Wayward is now streaming on Netflix.

LinkedIn has joined the throng of social media platforms and companies silently removing protections for LGBTQ users, amid an increasingly dangerous time for transgender communities across the country.

The networking site removed a line from its hateful conduct policy that explicitly prohibited the misgendering and deadnaming of transgender individuals. Open Terms Archive first reported on the change, which was not announced publicly.

In the eyes of LGBTQ advocacy groups, explicit protections such as these are considered the bare minimum for companies seeking to protect LGBTQ users, and are used as a barometer in assessing a platform's willingness to protect historically underrepresented groups. According to GLAAD's annual Social Media Safety Index, which scores major platform policies on how they address anti-LGBTQ online hate, harassment, and disinformation:

Every platform should have public-facing policies that: protect LGBTQ people from hate, harassment, and violence on the platform; prohibit targeted misgendering and deadnaming on the basis of gender identity; prohibit content promoting so-called 'conversion therapy;' prohibit advertising content that promotes hate, harassment, and violence against LGBTQ individuals on the basis of protected characteristics; explain the proactive steps it takes to stop demonetizing and/or wrongfully removing legitimate content and accounts related to LGBTQ topics and issues; and explain its internal structures to best ensure the fulfillment of its commitments to overall LGBTQ safety, privacy, and expression on the platform.

In addition, LinkedIn, which is owned by Microsoft, removed mention of "race or gender identity" from its list of protected "inherent traits" that are monitored for potential harassment. These are the first changes to the hateful conduct policy since 2023, according to Open Terms Archive.

In a statement to Engadget, a LinkedIn spokesperson said the change doesn't reflect a difference in the company's "underlying policies," reiterating: "Personal attacks or intimidation toward anyone based on their identity, including misgendering, violates our harassment policy and is not allowed on our platform." They did not provide explanation as to why the wording was removed completely.

LinkedIn is just the latest to roll back previously strong protections. Most notably, Meta completely overhauled its hateful conduct policy to allow users to post previously banned divisive and harmful rhetoric — including the use of phrases such as "mental illness" and "abnormality" when discussing gender and sexual orientation — in the name of free speech. Meta's own independent Oversight Board called for the removal of discriminatory language in the company's updated policy. Advocates have called the move, and others like it, a direct attack on marginalized groups, a potential threat to public health, and even a "precursor to genocide."

Taimi is an LGBTQ dating app, and though it's had its share of controversies on Reddit (mainly unicorn hunters, dead profiles, and cishet dudes posing as queer women), it's become popular in the last few years, with 28 million downloads according to its press release. On market intelligence service AppMagic, Taimi is a top 5 dating app to boot.

Still, in 2025, daters are wary of dating apps more than ever. Now, Taimi is encouraging users to get off the app and into real-world queer spaces. The company released two brand-new features to help facilitate meetups in real life.

The 'First Move' feature lets you send pre-written conversation starters

The "First Move" feature allows users to set up pre-scheduled messages that will automatically send when a new connection is made. This is kind of similar to Hinge's "Match Note," except it's a little less personal and more of a conversation starter, like Bumble's current "Opening Moves."

The idea is that you can be away from your phone without having to worry about missing the window to connect with a new match, because you've already taken care of the first message. While some of the pre-written options like "How can I make you smile?" and the ever-simple "Hi, how are you doing?" might feel a bit lackluster, you do have the option to write your own custom message. (You can also opt out of using this feature entirely.)

That said, it seems to be working, at least a little. During a test run, Taimi found that this smart automation led to a 4.8 percent increase in matches moving into a "deep dialogue" and a 4.5 percent rise in the average time users spent online.

The 'Taimi In-Person' feature lets you promote local events

"Taimi In-Person" is exactly what it sounds like: a free promotional platform for real-life LGBTQ events. During its pilot phase, the feature has already been used to support 77 events.

This could be good news for queer people who might not know where to find a community in their area or for travelers looking for queer-friendly places to visit while on vacation.

If you're interested in hosting an event on Taimi, you can submit a request form on the company's website or email events@taimi.com.

In an email to Mashable, Taimi told us that these features were created in response to the shrinking number of safe and welcoming spaces for queer people across the United States. The company believes the LGBTQ community needs both digital tools and physical spaces to thrive, and it's betting on a hybrid approach where technology can enhance IRL connections.

The company's goal is to "[bridge] digital connections with real-life communities and [strengthen] the queer ecosystem,” says Taimi's CEO, Oleksiy Shevchenko.

"Happy Pride!" Recently, that simple message was "de rigueur" for large corporations — including tech companies — to extol on their merchandise, press releases, and social media feeds. Much has changed with the second presidential election of Donald Trump, who made banishing DEI one of his signature endeavors. Even before his reelection, tech giants like Amazon's Jeff Bezos, Meta's Mark Zuckerberg, and X's Elon Musk sidled up to the politician and warmed to his positions (including less regulation on their businesses). One result of these new bedfellows appears to be a growing disinterest from Big Tech in celebrating their LGBTQ employees, creators, and consumers.

The slackening of support from these companies coincides with the Trump administration's attacks on the LGBTQ community, which include banishing trans people from the military, terminating a national LGBTQ suicide hotline, and ending critical HIV research. In short, joy is a tough sell for Pride revelers in 2025.

Still, like other marginalized groups, the LGBTQ community is resilient and has long faced down intolerant CEOs and politicians. Mashable caught up with a group of queer creators rolling with the changes of the 2020s and who continue to innovate and spread messages of hope and inclusivity. From drag legend Kim Chi to history-maker Tona Brown, these individuals are not letting billionaires get them down.

Cyrus Veyssi

Credit: Cyrus Vessi / Mashable Composite

The internet's self-proclaimed "bougie gay uncle," Cyrus Veyssi is not like every other beauty and lifestyle influencer online. As a non-binary creator, Veyssi is intentionally fluid with their content, committed to showing off all sides of their life, from the glam-filled to the humorous. They face hate comments head on, with empathy rooted in the acceptance and participation of his Iranian family. Veyssi's viral videos featuring their father, lovingly known as Baba to both Veyssi and his adopted internet children, emulate what unconditional love and support for queer youth can produce: A creative, glowing future of self-acceptance. 

Mashable: How have you typically recognized Pride online? What has it looked like this year, online or off?

I'm honestly most excited to get back to the core of what Pride signifies — our community sticking up for and advocating for each other. Corporate Pride has always been a mechanism to produce and benefit off of the backs of the Black and Brown trans/queer folks who started the gay liberation movement, and as amazing as it is to get the opportunity to partner with amazing brands every year, it's clear that there’s a divisive shift away from sponsorships. 

Has the current political and business climates impacted how you post online or your relationship to social media? How has it shifted?

It's definitely impacted the way brands align with longterm partners, but I'll never let it dissuade me from sticking up for our communities when we need it. Obviously, there’s a balance between my branded and organic content that I think has created a space for my business to grow, as well as my community to flourish, so the focus for me is to continue to post authentically while also making space for meaningful partnerships, instead of do-and-go ads that aren't fruitful or beneficial to me in any way. 

How has your content typically been received by your followers, or anyone else who interacts with your pages?

Fairly positive for the most part, I'm very lucky! I think because I approach everything through the lens of humor, and know how to take a joke myself, there really isn’t anything negative that someone's said that I haven't already heard or can't manipulate into something funny for everyone to enjoy. Comedy can disarm anyone, and extend a hand to those who may not ever consider following me to becoming a fan. 

Do you feel the reception or amplification of such content has changed on platforms — like Instagram, TikTok, X — since their owners aligned themselves with anti-DEI, anti-LGBTQ policies?

I think I simply receive more inundated hate coming from certain sectors of the internet whenever ANY of my content goes viral — it's not necessarily the platform but often what the algorithm is choosing to amplify that week. So if trans folks are going viral for something silly that bigots have chosen to amplify, my content will definitely funnel into their feed and stir the pot a bit. 

What message do you want to send out, as we honor another global Pride month?

You are much more capable and powerful than you give yourself credit for. It'd be a shame for you to waste time thinking to yourself about all the nasty things people say, when the world around you is full of people ready to embrace you! 

Jere Chang

Credit: Jere Chang / Mashable Composite

Jere Chang (AKA Ms. Chang Gifted) has been teaching in classrooms across the Atlanta area for more than 20 years, but her lessons aren't just in front of a blackboard. Speaking in front of millions of social media followers, Chang is a motivational speaker to the masses. Through colorful, honest storytelling about her life as a teacher, wife, and parent, she imparts real-world lessons from her colorful world, centering joy, inclusion, and authenticity.

How do you typically recognize Pride on your social media channels?

I recognize Pride on my social media by living out loud and being unapologetically myself. That means posting content with my wife and our kids, sharing everyday moments that celebrate who we are as a family. Whether we’re attending a Pride event together or just dancing in the kitchen, I want people to see that queer joy exists in the ordinary and the extraordinary. 

For me, Pride isn’t limited to a month, it's a year-round celebration of authenticity. That decision is intentional. I didn't grow up seeing many families that looked like mine, so I share our story openly in hopes that someone out there, maybe a young queer kid or a teacher in a small town, feels seen, affirmed, and reminded that they're not alone.

How have these posts been typically received by your followers?

The response has been overwhelmingly positive. I've had parents, teachers, and even teenagers slide into my DMs just to say, "Thank you for being visible," or "I've never seen a family like yours on my feed before, and now I want to see more!" Of course, every now and then someone brings hate and tries to drown out our gay happiness, but honestly, that just reminds me why visibility matters. 

For me, love always outweighs the noise. People are craving realness, and when they see a queer family just doing life like packing school lunches, going to Pride, or traveling with kids, they feel connected. I think it reminds folks that Pride isn't just a parade, it's a presence. The more we show up, the more space we make for others to do the same.

Is the current government climate making you rethink how you honor Pride month?

The current government hasn’t impacted how I share my life online. I've always believed in showing up authentically, and that hasn't changed. That said, I have noticed a declining shift in LGBTQ+ visibility and acceptance from many government agencies and major corporations. From inclusive campaigns to public affirmations of Pride, that kind of representation matters, and it motivates me to keep sharing.

As my platform has grown, I've definitely become more mindful about what I share especially when it comes to my kids. I'm incredibly proud of them, but I'm also protective. I don’t want to use my kids to make a point or push a message. Their stories are theirs, and it's important to me that they have the freedom to decide how and when they show up online.

What I share is rooted in authenticity and love. When I post my family online, it's because it feels right and not performative. I want people to see that queer families exist, thrive, and love deeply, but at the same time I want to recognize that my kids didn’t sign up to be activists. That's my lane, not theirs. I'll always share our love, our joy, and our goofy moments, but when it comes to the fight for visibility and inclusion, that burden isn't theirs to carry.

Do you feel supported for your LGBTQ-related content from platforms — such Instagram, TikTok, or X — since their owners took a more conservative turn?

Despite the shifts in leadership and tone on some platforms, I've been fortunate that my LGBTQ+ related content continues to reach and resonate with my audience. I think part of that is because I lead with joy, honesty, and real-life moments. 

That said, I'm always aware of the broader climate. I know algorithms can shift, policies can change, and sometimes it feels like queer voices are walking a tighter rope, but for now, I still feel like there's room for me, and others, to show up authentically. As long as that space exists, I'll keep using it to highlight the beauty, humor, and everyday magic of queer life.

Any message for Pride you’d like to send out to the world? 

To every young LGBTQ+ person out there: I want you to know that I believe in you, I see you, and I have so much hope because of you. As an older lesbian, I've lived through moments when it felt like the world wasn't ready for us. I remember when coming out meant risking everything, when our love had to be hidden, and when even the smallest acts of visibility were met with silence or hate, but I've also lived long enough to see that change can happen. I've seen hatred turn into understanding, and I've seen people who once stood on the sidelines become allies. I've seen doors open that were once nailed shut.

That said, there’s still so much work to do. In many ways, it feels like we’re in a moment of pushback, where progress is being questioned, and where some are trying to dim the light we’ve worked so hard to shine. It’s easy to feel discouraged. It’s easy to feel like we’re slipping backwards, but here’s what I know for sure: We are not going back and we are not done.

In fact, that darkness only ignites me more. It makes me want to speak louder, show up more visibly, and post more intentionally for myself, my family, and for the kids who need to know that queer love is beautiful, that queer joy is real, and that their story deserves to be seen and celebrated.

When I look at the younger generation, I feel nothing but awe. You are stepping into your truth with a confidence that inspires me daily. You’re refusing to settle for tolerance when what we deserve is celebration. You’re pushing boundaries and designing your journey. 

Keep being exactly who you are, even when it’s hard, because every time you speak up, show up, or simply exist unapologetically, you make space for someone else to do the same. I’ll be right there with you, cheering you on, fighting beside you, and reminding you that this world is better with you in it exactly as you are.

Kim Chi

Credit: Kim Chi / Mashable Composite

Multi-hyphenate drag queen Kim Chi is a lot of things to a lot of fans: Their favorite reality TV star, the founder of their go-to pastel-hued makeup brand, and the author and creator behind their most bookmarked tasty food content. But — when not acting as ambassador and former competitor for RuPaul's Drag Race, or promoting the latest drop of her "pigmented and proud" makeup line on TikTok — Kim Chi is an outspoken, unabashed champion for the queer AAPI community, playing offense on her social media channels and donning her Pride regalia to march defiantly and openly in the face of widespread attacks. 

How do you typically recognize Pride on your social media channels? Is there anything that informs how, when, or what you post? 

Pride is now more important than ever. We've gotta show up and show out every chance we get and online is the best way to do so. I don't like to let the social media algorithm control my life so I'll post whenever and wherever. I do like to read the room and maybe I'll hold off on posting things that are overly joyous when something tragic or sad happens that day. It feels like a lot of companies are staying away from addressing Pride altogether. I even shot a Pride campaign with a brand that was indefinitely shelved without an explanation. I have so much more appreciation for companies that don't treat Pride like another thing to make them money, but do it because they genuinely believe in it! You know who you are!

Has the current political climate impacted how you post online or your relationship to social media, especially since you've started reaching wider audiences?

Right now is a dire and sensitive time for the LGBTQIA+ community, especially trans folks. I personally focus on constantly raising awareness to what is happening but also not overwhelm my feed with too much bad news, which can also affect mental health. It is more crucial than ever to constantly remind folks they are not alone, and they are loved. We need to be a shelter and a solace for those seeking asylum from terrible news. My feed used to be sharing slices and glimpses of my life that make me happy and a lot of irreverent content but nowadays, the general tone is more somber, serious but also hopeful.

How has your content (and art) typically been received by your followers or others ?

I actually try not to read the comments because there are so many trolls and bots that would send me spiraling if I read every one of them and let it affect me. I put out what I want to say and I move on with my life. 

Do you feel supported for your LGBTQ-related content from Instagram or X since their owners took a more conservative turn? 

I've left most of the platforms and use others minimally despite being known as the social media queen back in the day. TikTok has been good to us personally and the community there is still fun and vibrant — easy to scroll past content I don't want to be a part of.

What message do you carry for those in community with you?

We are all we have. Let's continue to love one another, be a shoulder for those that need it and keep fighting for a better future. At the very minimum, just your existence alone is a protest in itself.

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Lauren Chan

Credit: Luther Cherry / Mashable Composite

Model, entrepreneur, and activist Lauren Chan was the first out lesbian to appear on the cover of Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit Edition. Chan also founded and led Henning, a fashion line that caters to women size 12 and up. The label sold to Universal Standard in 2023, with Chan brought on at the time to head brand partnerships. 

How do you typically recognize Pride on your social media channels? 

New York City's hottest club is Pride on social — it has everything: Philanthropic initiatives, party snaps full of queer joy, and genuine connection among community. I love the vulnerability and celebration that takes over my feed for all of June — and I hope I contribute to it! This year, I'm sharing panels I'm a part of (like Welcome to Chinatown's panel called "A Radical Act of Belonging"), friends' wins (like trans designer Willie Norris designing the Gotham FC Pride merch), and my relationship (we're newly engaged!). 

How have your Pride posts been typically received by your followers (or anyone else who interacts with your channels)? 

One thing I've noticed since becoming the first lesbian with her own cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue is that the queer faction of my followers in increasing — which means Pride is being super well-received. Some hilarious, brilliant lesbians have been sliding into my DMS and I also get many tender messages from folks whose stories are similar to mine.

Do you feel supported for your LGBTQ-related content from Instagram or X since their owners took a more conservative turn? 

I think it's extremely important that we are all curating our online environments in order to feel safe and represented — it's part of mental health! We spend so much time on our feeds that we cannot leave our experiences up to the algorithm. If you don't currently feel seen and celebrated by what you see online, I encourage you to make a concerted effort to block negative accounts, unfollow brands that share harmful rhetoric, and on the flip side, follow users that make you feel your best.

Any message for Pride you'd like to send out to the world? 

Pride is a celebration and a resistance! I hope that we're all able to use social media to ensure both of those aspects are heard. 

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Mal Glowenke

Credit: Mariah Miranda / Mashable Composite

Mal Glowenke, a self-described "lesbian podcaster," is host of the Made It Out podcast. The weekly show delves into sexuality, culture, religion, politics, and more. Glowenke's candor and humor, paired with high-profile guests like comedians Margaret Cho and Robby Hoffman, make the podcast a must-listen. Glowenke is expanding her brand with the launch of Made It Out Media, a new digital media company focused on telling queer women's stories.

How do you typically recognize Pride on your social media?

I feel like my content is inherently Pride content all year long, so nothing changes very much! With Made It Out Media we really try to spread queer joy, and share our thoughts on the queer experience as much as we can. I don't think June should be the only time we are putting a spotlight on our community.

Is the current government and business climate making you rethink how you honor Pride month?

The current government/climate does not make me shy away from posting or sharing any message that I feel is important to fighting for our community. If anything it makes me want to fight harder and louder.

How have your Pride posts been typically received by your followers (or anyone else who interacts with your channels)?

I've built my platform being completely transparent with who I am, therefore I feel like I've attracted people who are like-minded and also want to celebrate differences and diversity.

Occasionally my videos reach the wrong side of the algorithm and then you see an uptick in hateful comments, but who knows, maybe that means I'm reaching people whose minds need to be opened and expanded.

Any message for Pride you’d like to send out to the world?

There's a freedom in queerness that threatens people who feel trapped. I try to harness empathy for them, because how sad is it that they don't get to live this beautiful, bold life that we do.

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Paul and Matthew Castle

Credit: Matthew and Paul Castle / Mashable Composite

Matthew and Paul Castle are an inter-abled couple who document their lives as artists and LGBTQ advocates to a massive online following. Paul is a painter, illustrator, and children's book author living with Retinitis Pigmentosa, an untreatable eye disease that has led to the loss of 90 percent of his vision. Matthew is a classical violinist, as well as the inspirational half to Paul's anthropomorphic penguin characters in Pringle and Finn, otherwise known as The Pengrooms — an LGBTQ-positive children's book that champions diverse family units. But the real star of the show? Paul's guide dog, Mr. Maple, whose side job includes joining in on Matthew's harmless couple pranks and Paul's lighthearted daily vlogs. 

In the past, how have you typically recognize Pride on your social media channels?

Paul Castle: Pride has always been personal for me. I don’t just post a rainbow and call it a day — I share real pieces of my life with my husband, Matthew, and our journey as an inter-abled, same-sex couple navigating love, loss, and joy. I try to highlight not just the celebration, but the humanity. This year, Pride looks a little different. It’s been a time of deep reflection and change in my personal life, but I still feel a responsibility to show up. Online, I’m sharing stories behind my books — especially The Pengrooms, which celebrates queer family — and offline, I’m working with museums and bookstores to amplify LGBTQ+ representation in children’s literature.

Has the current climate impacted how you post online or your relationship to social media?

When platforms or companies publicly align themselves with anti-LGBTQ rhetoric, it sends a message — not just politically, but personally. I’ve grown more intentional about what I post and where I post it. In the early days, I shared more freely, like it was just me and a few kind strangers. Now, with millions of followers, every post feels a little heavier. There’s always a tension between authenticity and safety, but I try to stay grounded in purpose: Using storytelling to make people feel seen.

How has your content (and art) typically been received by your followers, or anyone else who interacts with your pages?

The response has been overwhelmingly warm, especially when people see themselves or their families reflected in my work. My books often feature same-sex couples or disabled characters — not to make a statement, but because that’s my life. And for many readers, especially parents and kids who’ve never seen families like theirs in picture books, it means everything. That said, when something goes viral, it sometimes reaches people outside my usual circle — and not everyone is kind. But I’ve learned that pushback only reinforces how necessary this work really is.

Do you feel the reception or amplification of your content has changed on platforms since their owners aligned themselves with anti-DEI, anti-LGBTQ policies?

Yes, and it’s subtle — but undeniable. Some posts that used to gain traction now seem to disappear into the void. Visibility feels more precarious than it used to. It’s frustrating when content rooted in love and representation is deprioritized by algorithms, while harmful narratives gain ground. But I’ve also seen people rally — sharing, commenting, and supporting each other in ways that feel grassroots and defiant. It’s clear we can’t rely on platforms alone. The community has become the amplifier.

Any message for Pride you’d like to send out to the world?

You don’t need to be loud to be proud. Sometimes Pride is a quiet act of resilience — a gentle refusal to shrink. Whether you’re marching in the street, reading to your child, or just surviving in a world that wasn’t built for you, you’re doing enough. And if you’re like me — navigating change, heartbreak, or healing — remember this: Your story still matters. You are still part of this community, still worthy of celebration, and still building something beautiful with every breath.

Sasha Allen

Credit: @Kenai.Va / Sasha Allen / Mashable Composite

Many may know Sasha Allen from his viral performance on NBC's The Voice, which saw him and his father Jim deliver some of the most emotional and crowd-pleasing performances of the season as members of Ariana Grande's team. But to millions of online followers, and fans who had followed the artist alongside their national TV debut, Allen is first and foremost a fierce advocate for acceptance as the first openly transgender contestant to compete on the reality competition show. Now three years on, Allen is still championing radical change in the face of discrimination, while tackling viral misconceptions and overt hate through his popular TikTok account and his debut children's book, The House That Feels Like Me, and highly anticipated EP, Jawbreaker.

In the past, how have you recognized Pride online?

How I've recognized Pride online and in real life has changed so much throughout my life, just as I have through my transition, and it's meant different things to me over the years. In previous years, when I first started transitioning, the concept of Pride was something that made me feel supported and seen and validated. It gave me something to participate in that helped me to grow my own sense of self-acceptance and identity. Over time, however, that's changed.

I now view Pride and my visibility during this time as an opportunity to let others know that they have a place here. I know there are so many trans kids out there, especially now, who feel exactly like I did when I was a teenager. They're scared and apprehensive, still struggling to find their place in a world that doesn't truly see them. Knowing that those kids are out there, watching me and even looking up to me, motivates much of what I post, during Pride month and all other times of year. I needed to see others being visible like that when I was a kid, so now that I feel comfortable in my identity as a trans person, I feel as though it's my duty to share my own pride surrounding that. This year, Pride for me is about joy, and showing others that they can find that too. 

Has the current climate made you rethink how you post online or your relationship to social media?

The current political climate has definitely impacted my relationship with social media, and has for a long time. When I first started posting on TikTok years ago, the majority of what I posted was political content. It's since transitioned into various LGBTQ+ content, but that in itself will always be political as well. I think, if anything, our current political climate has inspired me to be more vocal about my life experiences as a trans person, even ones that I may feel vulnerable talking about, like topics surrounding sex or medical care. I've come to find that those less talked about topics are actually the most important and impactful on my viewers, who are mostly younger LGBTQ+ people. 

How has your content (and art) typically been received by your followers, and others who interact with your pages?

I'm very lucky to say that my content and art have been so wholeheartedly embraced by my viewers, and nothing compares to knowing that there are people truly connecting to the things I create. After years of being a content creator, I've recently transitioned into releasing music as well, and put out my first EP in April. I wasn't exactly sure how this would go, but I found there to be so much overlap in the videos I make and the music I write. Being proud of my identity as a trans man informs everything that I create, and because of this, I found that people who connect with my content have also connected with my art and music.

Do you feel the reception or amplification of your content has changed?

I've definitely noticed changes, specifically in my own videos being taken down or flagged, which I've been experiencing now more than ever. Like I said, my content is inherently political since it surrounds LGBTQ+ topics, and I've found that the more political I get, the more likely it is my video gets banned. I've made videos responding to conservatives/transphobes that are then taken down for "hate speech" and "slurs." Ironically, those videos I'm responding to are actually the ones containing hate speech, not mine. I've definitely noticed favoritism towards conservatives in the TikTok algorithm lately, especially when it comes to penalizing creators. 

What message do you carry for those in community with you?

Never stop being joyful, and never stop being you. Queer people have always existed, and we will continue to exist and thrive. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and your existence is an act of resistance. 

Tona Brown

Credit: Tona Brown / Mashable

Violinist and mezzo-soprano Tona Brown has been inspiring people for nearly a decade. After co-starring in the memorable “Tranny Road Show” in 2006, Brown would go on to perform at Carnegie Hall in 2014 — the same year she would sing the National Anthem for then-President Barack Obama at the LGBTQ Leadership Gala Dinner in New York City. Brown, the first Black trans woman to perform for a president, would later land roles in operas like As One and Suor Angelica, and author the memoir, Tonacity.

When not booking public speaking jobs or hosting masterclasses on music-making, Brown is active on social media and YouTube, where she hosts “Conversations with Tona Brown.” On the show, Brown confers with politicians, business moguls, relationship experts, and fellow musicians on how to pursue your dreams when much of the world is against you. Brown’s unsinkable optimism shone through in her responses about navigating social media in this day and age.

How do you typically recognize Pride on your social media channels?

I typically recognize Pride on my Facebook the most! I love speaking to my Facebook friends and followers and I usually change my big picture on Facebook to a Pride image or design. During Pride Month, I try to highlight LGBTQ historical figures and share content from my podcast, "Conversations with Tona Brown," discussing important issues to the LGBTQ community.

Is the current government and business climate making you rethink your Pride-related strategy or messaging?

The current administration's policies and cruelty have made me post even more than I normally would during Pride Month. I feel this is the best time to post and educate others during these challenging times with our government. I partnered with Uptime, a London-based app, so that I could ensure that my message reached an international following. The app automatically translates each episode into a six-minute hack in 26 languages! 

How have your Pride posts been typically received by your followers (or anyone else who interacts with your channels)?

My Pride posts have been very successful! Rarely would I ever get anything negative said about Pride month on my pages because of the type of audience I have. My audience is extremely diverse and very pro-LGBTQIA. 

Do you feel supported for your LGBTQ-related content from Instagram or X since their owners took a more conservative turn?

I do not feel supported by Instagram or X, but I never looked for their approval for anything. I know that as a Black trans woman, I have to pave my own way. I would have never gotten to be the first transgender woman of color to sing for a sitting president, Barack Obama, or headline at Carnegie Hall if I were waiting on anyone else's approval for my talent and desire to achieve the American dream.  

Any message for Pride you’d like to send out to the world?

My message for Pride is to live your absolute best life ever! Show the world who you are because others are not living or being authentic; however, WE ARE! Stop hiding who you are inside! Love who you are, and never allow anyone or anything to keep you from being your authentic self.

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—Additional reporting and writing by Rebecca Ruiz and Neal Broverman

At VidCon 2025, Nick Bornstein, general manager of the Webby Awards, hosted a very demure, very mindful panel with LGBTQ+ creators. The panel included creators Briel Adams-Wheatley, Jools Lebron, Ruba Wilson, Hailee and Kendra, and Naomi Hearts.

The panel covered viral fame, the intersectionality of queerness, balancing work and personal life, and future ambitions.

Lebron, who blew up the internet last year with her "Very demure, very mindful" content discussed how viral fame had changed her life. While she was able to finance her own transition through the monetary success of content creation, while working with GoFundMe, she was also able to leverage her platform to fund the transition of a woman in Puerto Rico.

Hailee and Kendra, who create content as a lesbian couple, discussed how making content together helps them both stay authentic.

Bornstein asked Ruba Wilson about his work as a host and breaking into television. He urged others to tap into their inner child and follow a path that honors them.

Much of the discussion at the panel centered on bringing light and levity to the front of their content. The creators reiterated that there are so many who will try to diminish the presence of queer joy online, so their role is to represent the underrepresented. Naomi Hearts said, "there are so many different types of people, and I think that's what makes us so special."

Mashable will be live at Anaheim Convention Center this week covering VidCon 2025. Check back in the days ahead at Mashable.com, where we’ll be talking to your favorite creators, covering the latest trends, and sharing how creators are growing their followings, their influence, and making a living online.

Not that long ago, major tech companies could be counted on as vocal allies of the LGBTQ community. Household names like Amazon, Google, and Meta made their stances particularly known during Pride Month, during which they'd publish celebratory blog updates or social media posts.

This year, however, some of these companies have muted their support, posting fewer times or not at all.

The shift comes amidst heightened political pressure by the Trump administration on private companies to fully reject diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) language and initiatives. Beyond the tech industry, companies like Anheuser-Busch and Deloitte have scaled back or eliminated their annual support of Pride festivities, according to the New York Times.

In order to gauge how the tech industry is, or isn't, acknowledging the occasion, Mashable reviewed newsroom and social media posts published by Amazon, Apple, Google, Meta, Microsoft, and TikTok, for June 2024 and the first half of June 2025. We focused on the companies' main accounts on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and X.

Mashable also contacted each company to comment on our findings. We invited them to provide additional content that may have appeared on other platforms, including LinkedIn and Threads; share whether more posts may be forthcoming in June; and highlight internal Pride messaging for employees.

While some companies, like Apple, TikTok, and Microsoft, appear so far to have maintained their commitment to publicly recognizing Pride, advocates have noticed the silence from other corporations. (Scroll down to see our findings in detail.)

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Most notably, Amazon and Meta — the latter being the parent company of brands including Facebook and Instagram — have been quiet on Pride during June, so far.

Neither company has acknowledged Pride via their corporate newsrooms. Nor have they done so on their popular Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok social media accounts.

Google, which recognized Pride frequently in 2024 with multiple social media posts, appears to have acknowledged it once as of mid-June. YouTube, which is owned by Google, celebrated Pride last year on June 5 with a newsroom post on the occasion. As of this story's publication, YouTube hadn't published anything. On June 20, the platform posted a lengthy feature highlighting its LGBTQ+ creators community.

Earlier this year, YouTube removed "gender identity and expression" from its hate speech policy, which protects certain groups of people from harassment.

Google declined to respond to Mashable's request for comment about its Pride content.

Standing for "freedom and inclusion"

A spokesperson for GLAAD, a nonprofit organization that monitors media and cultural representation of LGBTQ people and issues, indicated that the pullback on Pride messaging is alarming.

"Tech companies should stand up for inclusive values all year round, but especially during Pride month," a GLAAD spokesperson told Mashable. "They’re missing out on reaching millions of LGBTQ people and our allies when they fail to stand up for the commonly held values of freedom and inclusion."

The spokesperson noted that the lack of engagement around Pride follows discouraging policy decisions that advocates believe put LGBTQ people at greater risk for online harm.

Meta, for example, revised its Hateful Conduct policy earlier this year by dropping rules that protected LGBTQ people. As a result, Facebook, Threads, and and Instagram users are now permitted to call gay people "mentally ill." Meta also removed its LGBTQ Pride themes from Messenger in January.

The changes occurred in advance of President Trump's 2025 inauguration, and in tandem with statements from Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg that the company would favor free speech over enforcing longstanding guidelines meant to create safe online spaces, including for LGBTQ people. A new report from GLAAD found those changes have increased harmful content and harassment.

Whereas Meta previously posted regularly during Pride Month via its corporate newsroom and social media platforms, the company hasn't mentioned the occasion yet. Last year, the company marked the start of Pride Month with a post on June 1 honoring its own employees. "Get ready for a month of love, acceptance, and celebration at Meta!" the post read.

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Meta did not respond to Mashable's requests to comment on its approach to Pride this year.

Amazon, which also once reliably posted about Pride Month, has been quiet. In 2024, the company shared a celebratory message on LinkedIn, featuring a carousel of employee images and a supportive message, complete with both Pride and trans flags: "Love who you want to love. Be who you want to be. Here's to equality. Here's to Pride. 🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍⚧️"

No such messaging has appeared on its social media accounts this year, nor has the company dedicated a newsroom post about Pride since 2023.

When contacted for comment by Mashable, Amazon said that it recognizes cultural moments and celebrations throughout the year, both with employees and publicly, but did not mention Pride specifically. It also reiterated its commitment to building a "diverse and inclusive company," which Amazon cites in a list of "positions" on top issues, like climate change and immigration reform.

"The LGBTQ community will remember"

Importantly, most of these tech companies have scored high on the Human Rights Campaign's Corporate Equality Index, a multi-faceted measure of corporate policies and practices that relate to LGBTQ employees and outreach to the LGBTQ community. The index takes into account whether U.S.-based companies have inclusive benefits and adopt nondiscrimination policies, among other factors.

Amazon, Apple, Google, Meta, and Microsoft all received perfect 100 scores in the 2025 index, which was based on data collected in 2024. TikTok, which is not a U.S.-based company, did not participate in last year's survey.

RaShawn Hawkins, senior director of HRC's Workplace Equality Program, told Mashable that the index can be a valuable way for consumers to gauge whether a company supports LGBTQ people year-round. But she was also troubled by the fact that some companies are distancing themselves from Pride, and DEI in general.

She attributed their reticence partly to business pressures in light of the Trump administration's executive order forbidding federal contractors from engaging in DEI-related practices, and threatening legal action against companies that engage in "illegal DEI discrimination and preferences." Yet Hawkins also noted that amidst the political chaos and uncertainty, there's been a "lot of self-preservation inside the coalition, in the movement."

Hawkins said that it's important for the queer community to find ways of "knowing who's there for us, and who isn't," adding that corporations may very well face backlash for certain choices.

"Any short-sided or knee-jerk reaction that a business is making right now, the American people will remember, the LGBTQ community will remember," said Hawkins. "Don't expect us to come running, open arms, back into your business when you decide to be with us again."

Mashable will update the following list of Pride content shared by the companies we reviewed should new posts appear before the end of June 2025.

Amazon

In years past, Amazon routinely recognized Pride Month via its corporate newsroom. The last time it did so was in 2023, when it featured series and movies on Prime Video that celebrated "the LGBTQIA+ community."

When contacted for comment by Mashable, Amazon said that it values cultural moments, celebrations, and building a "diverse and inclusive company," but did not address specific questions about Pride content.

Check out Amazon's TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and X accounts. Though Mashable did not review LinkedIn posts for each tech company, you can find Amazon's account here.

Apple 

On June 1, Apple promoted its regular #ShotoniPhone campaign with a carousel of Instagram images featuring queer creators. The company pinned that post, with a simple prompt of "Celebrate Pride," to the top of its grid. Last year, Apple marked Pride Month with a different installment of #ShotoniPhone that highlighted the work of nine queer photographers.

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Earlier in May of this year, Apple launched its 2025 Pride collection of various products designed with rainbow striping. The newsroom post also noted that the company is "proud to financially support organizations that serve LGBTQ+ communities."

Apple did not respond to Mashable's request for comment.

Check out Apple's TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and X accounts.

Google

In 2024, Google recognized Pride several times on social media. The company's activity included a pointedly political Doodle of Jeanne Córdova, a Chicana lesbian activist, feminist, and author, as well as Facebook posts highlighting LGBTQ+ voices and storytelling about the Pride flag. A newsroom post published in early June catalogued eight ways to "find Pride" with Google. The Google platform YouTube also featured a series on LGBTQ+ creators.

"Beyond the 30 days of Pride Month, the LGBTQ+ Creators on YouTube inspire, inform and support users all year round," said a 2024 YouTube blog post about the initiative. "We are committed to fostering a space where everyone feels seen, heard, and empowered to be their authentic selves."

While Google has acknowledge Pride this year, its messaging has been noticeably muted compared to last year.

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YouTube waited until June 20, after the publication of this story, to publish a blog post featuring its LGBTQ+ creator community.

A brief Google newsroom writeup offers users ways to "connect" with Pride celebrations, but there aren't multiple social media posts. This year's Doodle, shared on Instagram and elsewhere, honors hyperpop and LGBTQ+ musical artists. As of this story's publication, Google hadn't shared shared any other Pride content on social media or its newsroom. The company declined to provide a response to Mashable's request for comment.

Check out Google's TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and X accounts.

Meta

As detailed above, Meta's recognition of Pride has shifted significantly. The company has previously noted the occasion in newsroom blog posts, as well as on its social media channels. So far, Meta has been silent.

San Francisco Pride also ended its relationship with the company in advance of its 2025 celebration, according to the San Francisco Chronicle.

The company didn't respond to Mashable's request for comment.

Check out Meta's TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and X accounts.

Microsoft

Microsoft has appeared to stay consistent with its Pride messaging this year. In mid-June of 2024, Microsoft shared a celebratory Instagram post to mark the occasion, along with an in-depth newsroom blog post and dedicated Pride storytelling hub.

This year, it again posted to Instagram to honor Pride, and linked back to a splashy campaign called "The Code of Us," which elevates "the voices and experiences of LGBTQIA+ communities." It has since promoted the campaign twice more on Instagram.

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A Microsoft spokesperson said these and other social posts, including on Threads and LinkedIn, are part of the company's broader Pride 2025 strategy, and that more social content is planned for June.

Check out Microsoft's TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, and X accounts.

TikTok

In 2024, TikTok debuted a roundup of "Visionary Voices," which featured "LGBTQIA+ creators who continue to inspire, educate, and make an impact." It also shared Pride content on its Live US account, in addition to cross-posting some of that media on Instagram.

While TikTok did launch a "You Belong Here" campaign to mark Pride 2025, there are no more Visionary Voices. However, it did share Pride content from a number of creators via its TikTokCreators account that has millions of followers, and posted similarly on Instagram.

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A spokesperson for TikTok told Mashable that the company takes a year-round approach to supporting LGBTQIA+ creators and employees. Part of that work, the spokesperson said, includes #PrideTikTok community creator programming, and an internal Pride employee resource group that promotes inclusion, allyship, and professional development.

Check out TikTok's TikTok Creators, Instagram, Facebook, and X accounts.

UPDATE: Jun. 24, 2025, 12:44 p.m. PDT This story has been updated to include new Pride content shared by YouTube, a Google-owned platform.

Pride is a time in which everyone under the LGBTQ umbrella is encouraged to come out and wave their flag in spectacular parades. But for every wild night out, we might need a cozy night in, perhaps with a movie that keeps the party going?

Many a streaming service will make a rainbow show of their LGBTQ titles in June. Let us be your guide through the essentials, highlighting movies across Netflix, Hulu, Prime Video, HBO Max, Kanopy, and beyond.

Whether you're in the mood for a thigh-slapping comedy, a heart-wrenching drama, a pulse-pounding romance, a mind-expanding documentary, or spine-tingling horror, we've got you covered.

Here is a sensational selection of LGBTQ movies to watch this Pride and beyond.

1. The People's Joker (2022)

Credit: Altered Innocence

The most original comic book movie in years just so happens to be a trans coming-of-age story. In The People's Joker, director Vera Drew (who also co-wrote, edited, and stars in the film) plays a closeted trans woman who leaves her hometown of Smallville to pursue her dreams of becoming a comedian in Gotham City. In this wacky political parody of the DC universe, Batman is the villain and Gotham has become a fascist police state where comedy is outlawed, Bat Drones surveil the city, and doctors prescribe an antidepressant gas that forces people to smile. After Drew's aspiring comic starts an underground anti-comedy club that becomes a hangout for Batman villains, she falls for Mr. J, a transmasc Joker who helps her come out and transition — from Joker to Harlequin, as she says. 

A playful riff on the age-old trans-women-as-villains stereotype in media, Drew brilliantly creates her own fusion of Joker and Harley Quinn to tell a complex story of a woman finding herself amid systems of abuse and oppression. Warner Bros. could never dream of making something this inventive. — Oliver Whitney, Contributing Writer

How to watch: The People's Joker is streaming on MUBI, and is available to rent or purchase on Apple TV+, Prime Video, and Google Play.

2. I Saw the TV Glow (2024)

Credit: A24

Anyone who felt like an outsider as a kid and relied on fiction to escape their reality, and especially especially queer and trans folks, will find something relatable in I Saw the TV Glow. Jane Schoenbrun's film manages to beautifully and hauntingly capture the power of escaping and coping through fictional worlds, only with the added layer of gender dysphoria.

In I Saw the TV Glow, teenage friends Owen (Justice Smith) and Maddy (Jack Haven) are obsessed with a show about two psychic teen girls, blurring the line between their lives and what's on the screen. We follow Owen over the years as he goes from depressed teen to depressed adult, frozen into a shell of a person. While Schoenbrun's characters aren't explicitly trans, it's not hard to see the parallels to an experience of being an egg, dysphoria, and feeling trapped and afraid to transition to one's truer self. Emotional and devastating — in a Charlie Kaufman kinda way —  I Saw the TV Glow is a masterful meditation on nostalgia, escapism, and the painful journey of finding yourself. — O.W.

How to watch: I Saw the TV Glow is streaming on HBO Max.

3. Love Lies Bleeding (2024)

A super gay, super steamy crime thriller cloaked in neon lights and splattered with blood and sweat — what more could you ask for? Set in the ‘80s, Love Lies Bleeding stars Kristen Stewart as Lou, a reserved gym manager in New Mexico. She sets her eyes on Jackie (Katy O'Brian), a jacked bodybuilder passing through town on her way to Vegas. In classic U-Haul style, the two immediately hit it off, fall in love, and move in together, but soon their blissful romance becomes interrupted by Lou's violent family. Oozing with moody visuals, a tense synth-heavy score, and plenty of sex appeal, Rose Glass' Love Lies Bleeding will scratch the itch for anyone craving a lesbian neo-noir that feels like “San Junipero” crossed with a Coen Brothers' thriller. — O.W.

How to watch: Love Lies Bleeding is streaming on HBO Max. 

4. L'immensità (2022)

With L'immensità, we get something incredibly rare and long overdue — a story about a young trans boy grappling with gender identity, told by an actual trans filmmaker. The semi-autobiographical film is based on Italian writer/director Emanuele Crialese's own childhood and his memories of growing up in 1970s Rome. 

Penélope Cruz plays Clara, a mother of three young kids and the wife of a distant, abusive husband. Clara's eldest introduces himself as Andrea, yet the rest of his family still call him by his female birth name, Adriana, and claim he's only pretending to be a boy. Refusing to hide himself, he confidently rocks a handsome short haircut, wears masculine jumpsuits, and tells his mother he feels like an alien from another galaxy. L'immensità is reminiscent of Céline Sciamma's Tomboy in how it captures the world through the eyes of a child struggling to understand his gender without the language or guidance. Yet it's also something wholly its own and personal, and carries the authenticity of being told from a trans experience. — O.W.

How to watch: L'immensità is streaming on Prime Video, Kanopy, Hoopla, and Darkroom.

5. Fire Island (2022)

Credit: Jeong Park / Searchlight

Calling all queers who love Pride and Prejudice, Fire Island is the movie for you! This gay revamp of the Jane Austen classic swaps the 19th-century social decorums and hetero romance for slutty underwear parties, drag bars, and plenty of messy drama set in the titular Long Island gay vacation spot. In director Andrew Ahn's film, Joel Kim Booster (who also wrote the screenplay) plays Noah, a bookish nurse from Brooklyn, and our Elizabeth Bennet. Enter our Mr. Darcy: a standoffish lawyer named Will (Conrad Ricamora) whose judgy attitude and reserved nature immediately turn Noah off. Eventually Noah warms to Will's charms, and the two get their Pride and Prejudice love story, iconic rain scene and all. What's most impressive about Fire Island is how it uses the classic straight romance to bring elements of gay male culture to the screen, earnestly touching on racism and fatphobia in the gay community, as well as telling a story with a predominately BIPOC cast and multiple Asian leads. — O.W.

How to watch: Fire Island is streaming on Hulu.

6. Maggots and Men (2009)

Maggots and Men, a film you've likely never heard of, is a radical vision of gender utopia and revolution that happens to have the largest cast of trans actors — and even more groundbreaking, of transmasculine actors — in any film, ever. 

An experimental work of historical fiction, Maggots and Men reimagines the true story of the 1921 Kronstadt uprising in which a group of sailors launched a revolt against the Bolshevik Party in post-revolutionary Russia. The film jumps between a theater troupe performance narrating the story and scenes of sailors in leisure and revolt, told with filmmaking techniques that wink at Soviet cinema and the Czech New Wave. But you don't need to understand the revolutionary politics of the time or be a film nerd to appreciate the brilliant way filmmaker Cary Cronenwett uses his cast to envision an alternate world of liberated, self-made masculinity. Here, transmasc bodies openly frolic, swim, and work in the glistening sunshine. It's a film for anyone longing to spend some time in a world where trans bodies exist openly and freely, outside the constraints of cis-centric gender norms. — O.W.

How to watch: Maggots and Men is streaming on The Criterion Channel. 

7. Maurice (1987)

Before Call Me By Your Name, there was Maurice. In the gay period drama from beloved and recently out gay filmmaker James Ivory (who wrote the screenplay for Call Me by Your Name), we follow a young man's journey of sexual acceptance in 20th-century London. While studying at Cambridge, Maurice (James Wilby) and his closest friend Clive (Hugh Grant) soon discover that what they feel for each other is deeper than any mere friendship. As time passes and the two men must leave school to enter a society where being gay is highly criminalized, Clive must decide whether or not to embrace his sexuality. Told with tenderness and sensitivity, Maurice will make your heart ache and flutter in the best of ways. — O.W.

How to watch: Maurice is streaming on Peacock, Kanopy, Philo, Cineverse, and Fandor, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video.

8. T-Blockers (2023)

Rarely do we get the treat of an ultra-low budget campy horror film these days, especially one about a trans vigilante hunting down hateful men. In T-Blockers, the young Australian filmmaker Alice Maio Mackay translates the current political attacks on trans existence into a pulpy sci-fi horror story where the types of men who listen to Jordan Peterson become injected with brain worms that turn them into seething, anti-trans, flesh-eating zombies. After Sophie (Lauren Last), a struggling trans filmmaker, discovers she has the power to sense these monsters, she recruits her friends to take justice into their own hands.

With campy B-movie aesthetics reminiscent of Ed Wood mixed with the queer, punk energy of Gregg Araki films, T-Blockers is stylized, gory, and has a very DIY feel — after all, Mackay made the film when she was 17 years old on a teeny budget of $10,000. It's the kinda movie you'd discover in an old video store as a teen and obsess over with your weirdo friends. — O.W.

How to watch: T-Blockers is streaming on AMC+ via Prime, Shudder, and Philo. 

9. All of Us Strangers (2023)

Credit: Searchlight Pictures

One of our favorite films from 2023, writer/director Andrew Haigh's  All of Us Strangers tells a tale surreal and deeply personal. Adapted from Taichi Yamada's 1987 novel Strangers, this horror-laced drama was shot in part in Haigh's childhood home. There, a lonely screenwriter (Ripley's Andrew Scott) visits the ghosts of his long-dead parents (Jamie Bell and Claire Foy), allowing them to get to know him as the adult they did not in the intervening decades. This includes an unexpectedly cathartic coming-out arc. Yet for as tender and sad as this drama is, it's also alive with love and lust — the latter thanks to Scott's onscreen romance with Aftersun's Paul Mescal, who plays a neighbor is desperate need of human connection. Altogether, this ensemble offers a movie that will make your spirit soar, your pulse race, and your heart shatter. — Kristy Puchko, Entertainment Editor

How to watch: All of Us Strangers is available to rent or buy on Amazon Prime.

10. The Queen (1968)

You may have seen Paris Is Burning, but have you seen The Queen? Frank Simon's seminal 1968 documentary details the 1967 Miss All-America Camp Beauty Pageant, a competitive drag pageant put together by trans and drag icon Flawless Sabrina. Simon's recently restored doc is so many things at once: an archival treasure of early drag performances, an intimate look at the lives of queer men and trans women offstage, and, most famously, a record of one infamous incident that would later give way to the birth of house culture and the ballroom scene: Crystal LaBeija's scorching tirade to the camera after losing to a white queen. LaBeija later went on to found the seminal House of LaBeija, which led to the very inception of ball culture we see in Paris is Burning, and has been massively influential to Black queer culture today. As an artifact of lost and, to many, largely unknown queer history, The Queen is essential Pride viewing, and honestly, essential every damn day viewing. — O.W.

How to watch: The Queen is available to stream for free on Kanopy or for rent or purchase on Kino Now and Prime Video.

11. Rope (1948)

Credit: Snap / Shutterstock

Rope may be known to most as Hitchcock's experimental attempt to shoot an entire film in what appears to be a single shot, but it's also the filmmaker’s gayest. The classic psychological thriller is about a gay couple who murders a man, then throws a dinner party using the trunk the dead body is in as the buffet — quite literally "be gay, do crime," Hitchcock-style. Of course, this was 1948, and that queerness is all subtext, but it roars to the surface thanks to gay screenwriter Arthur Laurents' script and performances by its notably gay leads, Farley Granger who plays Phillip Morgan with an anxious flamboyance, and John Dall, whose Brandon Shaw embodies a more reserved, posh queerness. That's not even to mention the oozing eroticism of the opening scene — a closed curtain, a roaring scream, a shot of man sandwiched between two others, with a rope around his neck. Oh, the abhorrent perversions two (or more) men commit behind closed doors! — O.W.

How to watch: Rope is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video.

12. The Stroll (2023)

Credit: HBO Documentary Films

There's nothing more powerful and more urgently needed than trans people telling their own stories. In The Stroll, filmmaker Kristen Lovell (making her directorial debut alongside co-director Zackary Drucker) does exactly that, gathering the trans folks she worked with in Manhattan's Meatpacking District to recount the history of The Stroll, an area that was a hub for trans sex workers from the 1970s through the early 2000s. The women and nonbinary interviewees recount not only the horrific police violence and neighborhood harassment they constantly faced, but, and perhaps most significantly, they speak to how The Stroll helped them find a resilient community that enabled them to survive. 

Through a mix of interviews, collage-style animation, and archival footage — including some possibly never-before-seen late footage of trans heroine Sylvia Rivera and an ultra-cringe clip from The RuPaul Show — Lovell and Drucker, who are both trans, achieve something beyond the reach of most cis filmmakers. In place of sorrowful trauma porn, the directing duo create a stunning ode to the power and resilience of trans sisterhood. The Stroll isn't only an essential document of trans history, it's a revitalizing reminder for trans folks that together we have the power to pave a path for a better trans future. — O.W.

How to watch: The Stroll is now streaming on HBO Max.

13. Bottoms (2023)

Credit: Orion Pictures

Craving a raunchy teen comedy that'll have you howling with laughter? Bottoms delivers. The Bear's breakout It Girl Ayo Edebiri stars with Bodies Bodies Bodies' Rachel Sennott (who reunites with Shiva Baby's director Emma Seligman). Together, they craft a tale of an all-girls fight club created to help two "ugly and untalented" gays Josie (Edebiri) and PJ (Sennott) hook up with their cheerleader crushes. One good lie leads to a violent after-school activity, homemade explosives, sloppy sexcapades, and the most bizarre scene involving pineapple juice you'll ever see. But that's not all. With a wicked wit, Bottoms not only roasts the supposed "glory days" of teendom but also takes shots at rape culture, pushes queer lust to awkward (and relatably so) places, and brings on the blood. This comedy went so hard it not only had critics raving, it had audiences cheering out of its SXSW premiere and ever since.* — K.P.

How to watch: Bottoms is now streaming on MGM+ and Prime Video.

14. Dressed in Blue (1983)

Watching Dressed in Blue for the first time feels like discovering a long-lost treasure, one you almost can't believe exists and which you only wish you'd seen sooner. This docudrama from Antonio Giménez-Rico mixes docu-style interviews with narrative reenactments to tell the life stories of six Spanish trans women living in post-Franco Madrid. Josette, Loren, René, Eva, Nacha, and Tamara gather in the dazzling Palacio de Cristal in Madrid to trade stories, gossip, bicker, giggle, and gossip some more as Giménez-Rico jumps in and out of scripted moments of their pasts. The unique framing gives the film something of an ethereal quality, especially paired with Teo Escamilla's dreamy cinematography that imbues each woman with a glowy, almost goddess-like quality. Depictions of trans life have long been victim to the gaze of cis creators, and though this film from a cis male director is no exception, Dressed in Blue does feel like something of an anomaly, especially for its time, by allowing these women more agency in recounting their most private memories. — O.W.

How to watch: Dressed in Blue is streaming on Tubi and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video, Apple TV+, and YouTube.

15. Born in Flames (1983)

Credit: First Run Features / Kobal / Shutterstock

For anyone in need of some radical-as-hell queer dystopian fiction during these increasingly dark and fascistic political times, Lizzie Borden's Born in Flames will prove to be a most satisfying balm. Set in a futuristic New York City after a socialist revolution, the film imagines America living under democratic socialism, but where the promises of that society are proving unfulfilled. Droves of women are losing their jobs, sexism and racism run rampant, and a queer Black revolutionary has just been captured and murdered by the state. This kicks off a new fiery revolt where feminist groups led by two radical radio hosts team up to take action into their own hands, from plotting direct action in underground meetings to teaching squads of women how to shoot rifles. 

This searing anti-capitalist, anti-racist, pro-feminist treatise is as relevant as ever. Hearing one queer radio DJ shout, "We're being murdered out there in the streets. Wake up, it's time to fight!" you can’t help but feel the parallels to the current attacks on queer and trans life and bodily autonomy happening in this country today. — O.W.

How to watch: Born in Flames is streaming on Kanopy and The Criterion Channel, and is available for rent or purchase on Apple TV+.

16. Bound (1996)

Credit: Moviestore / Shutterstock

A lesbian neo-noir directed by two trans women — there has never been a better combination of words. Bound, the debut feature from Lilly and Lana Wachowski, is a cult favorite for a reason, or maybe 10. It features Gina Gershon playing a tough-as-nails butch lesbian named Corky (just a year after Showgirls' Cristal Connors, mind you), who falls for her sultry femme fatale neighbor, Violet (Jennifer Tilly). This is no mere queer romance though, but a razor-sharp crime thriller where two ordinary women decide to rip off the mob. Violet's abusive boyfriend (a perfect Joe Pantoliano) is about to come into a load of cash, so why not steal it, frame him, and make a getaway for it? Any casual Wachowskis fan can see the sisters' stylistic fingerprints all over Bound, but it's especially a pleasure to see the ways the two spice up classic noir genre conventions with queer sex, startling violence, and a whole lot of queer badassery. — O.W.

How to watch: Bound is streaming on MGM+ and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+. 

17. No Ordinary Man (2020)

There are myriad ways to make a documentary about historical figures, but in No Ordinary Man, Chase Joynt and Aisling Chin-Yee take a unique and even risky creative approach that lands beautifully. To tell the story of Billy Tipton, a jazz musician whose stealth trans status was outed after his death and grossly mistreated for years in the press, No Ordinary Man looks to today's trans community to search for the lost and ignored truths of his life. Joynt and Chin-Yee invite a collection of transmasculine actors to read scenes from a narrative script about Tipton's life. This manifests into something profound, with each actor wrestling with how to portray a man who lived at a time where his transness had to remain secret, and with close to no models to shape himself after. It's a fascinating and incredibly moving creative exercise that both attempts to repair the painful history attached to Tipton's legacy, and showcases the necessity for trans performers to embody the roles of trans characters. — O.W.

How to watch: No Ordinary Man is streaming on Kanopy, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video.

18. All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022)

Credit: HBO

One of the absolute best films of 2022, Laura Poitras' Oscar-nominated documentary All the Beauty and the Bloodshed manages to accomplish multiple things: documenting the activism of acclaimed photographer Nan Goldin in a tireless pursuit to takedown the wealthy family responsible for the opioid epidemic, commemorating the vast cultural significance of Goldin's art, and detailing the personal life of the woman behind the camera. A prominent name in the 1980s New York City art scene, Goldin, who identifies as queer, is most known for her visceral, probing photography that captured a community ignored not just by the art world but by the entire world — queer and trans folks, sex workers, and those living with and dying from HIV/AIDS. All the Beauty and the Bloodshed fuses past and present, the individual and the collective, to tell a story that's achingly human, full of urgency and rage yet still simmering with hope. — O.W.

How to watch: All the Beauty and the Bloodshed is streaming on HBO Max, and is available to rent or purchase on Prime Video.

19. Funeral Parade of Roses (1969)

Toshio Matsumoto's Funeral Parade of Roses is an absolute trip, and it might be one of the most enthralling pieces of filmmaking about trans femininity. This 1969 Japanese New Wave film fuses avant-garde editing with meta-documentary style filmmaking and non-linear storytelling to follow Eddie (played by androgynous cis actor Peter), a trans woman who works as a hostess as a gay bar — the lines between trans and gay identity are messy at best, given when this was made. With jarring editing, we're torn between Eddie's love triangle with the bar's owner and his other mistress, fragmented memories of a traumatic childhood incident, and meta-interviews with the other trans bar hostesses. It's all quite disturbing and disorienting, both aesthetically and thematically, and that's kinda of the point — as critic Willow Maclay has written, Matsumoto's film "mirrors the breaking down of gendered perception through the destruction of cinematic form." It's the kinda thing you just need to watch to get, and maybe more than once. — O.W.

How to watch: Funeral Parade of Roses is streaming on Kanopy and NightFlight+.

20. God's Own Country (2017)

Sometimes gay romance dramas are tender, and sometimes they're just super hot. God's Own Country holds the honor of being both, leaving you crying one moment and indescribably turned on the next. Set on a farm in the Yorkshire countryside, Francis Lee's film traces the lonely and pained day-to-day life of Johnny (Josh O'Connor), a young gay man who buries his anger at his father with binge drinking and anonymous hookups. But when Gheorghe (Alec Secăreanu) arrives for a short stint to work at the farm, something shifts, and the newcomer's presence begins to melt Johnny’s hardened aggression. A sweet gentleness blossoms, along with one of the hottest (and muddiest) sex scenes in recent memory. If sexy emotional gay farmcore was a movie, this would be it. — O.W.

How to watch: God’s Own Country is streaming on Kanopy and Tubi, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

21. Shinjuku Boys (1995)

It’s the mid-'90s in Tokyo, and you walk into the New Marilyn nightclub. You're suddenly charmed by a flock of dapper studs in flashy suits with cool-as-ever haircuts. It's a paradise of transmasc cuties.

In Shinjuku Boys, a short documentary from Kim Longinotto and Jano Williams, we meet three transmasculine folks who work at a nightclub that caters to doting female customers. Tatsu, Gaish, and Kazuki, who all use he/him pronouns, describe themselves as "onabe," a broad Japanese term that's been used to describe a variety of identities from trans man to butch lesbian. The doc captures a rarely seen slice of transmasc life (including some not-so-great toxic masc behavior), and offers a series of incredibly raw interviews that speak to things not often shown in film. From personal disclosures about sex and dysphoria to a T4T couple lovingly gushing over how seen they feel by one another, Shinjuku Boys is a snapshot of a unique and little-known piece of Japanese trans history. — O.W.

How to watch: Shinjuku Boys is streaming on The Criterion Channel and Kanopy.

22. Sylvia Scarlett (1935)

Credit: Rko / Kobal / Shutterstock

It's Katharine Hepburn in masc drag, what more could you need? How about her looking as dashing as ever in a fedora and popped collar, flirting with Cary Grant and Brian Aherne and confusing the hell out of them both? In this 1935 film that marks the first collaboration between Hollywood gay icons Hepburn, Grant, and director George Cukor, Hepburn plays Sylvia, the meek daughter of a bookkeeper who disguises herself as a boy to help her father flee gambling debts. Now going by the name Sylvester, Hepburn's character finds a swaggering confidence around other men while passing as one. Released during the start of the Hays Code, Sylvia Scarlett was a daring risk, and today remains a fascinating exploration of gender play, queer desire, and the inner empowerment one can discover in distorting gender expectations. — O.W.

How to watch: Sylvia Scarlett is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video, Apple TV+, and VUDU.

23. Changing the Game (2021)

When Changing the Game was released in 2021, it felt like a dire time for trans athletes in America — at the time, 17 anti-LGBTQ bills had been passed. As of 2023, of the current proposed 530 anti-trans bills, 79 were passed. A large chunk of those specifically target trans kids who just want to play sports, and more than ever, Changing the Game remains a crucial film that highlights the experiences of young trans athletes. 

The documentary from Michael Barnett follows Mack, a trans boy who's the Texas state wrestling champion...of girls' wrestling; Andraya, a Connecticut track star who, though able to compete on her school's girls team, is met with harassment from parents; and Sarah, an alpine skier who splits her free time between activism and a makeup vlog. While circumstances have only gotten horrifically worse for trans youth, Changing the Game is a reminder that the resilience and diehard activism of younger trans generations won't be dying down anytime soon. — O.W.

How to watch: Changing the Game is streaming on Hulu.

24. Desert Hearts (1985)

Credit: Moviestore / Shutterstock

Set in 1959, Donna Deitch's indie classic Desert Hearts finds Vivian Bell (Helen Shaver), a straight-laced English professor dressed in pearls and a skirt suit, arriving in dusty Reno to file for a quick divorce. The first time she meets Cay (Patricia Charbonneau), an openly queer, free-wheeling local, Cay's riotously racing down the highway backwards, like a lesbian James Dean straight out of Rebel Without A Cause. It's a classic story of opposites attracting as Cay begins to pursue the hesitant and old-fashioned Vivian. Brimming with quiet passion and yearning, and lit stunningly by master cinematographer Robert Elswit, Desert Hearts is a must-watch for any lover of queer cinema. — O.W.

How to watch: Desert Hearts is streaming on The Criterion Channel and HBO Max.

25. Adam (2019)

Filmmaker Rhys Ernst's directorial debut does something unexpected and controversial: It portrays an authentic transmasculine experience, but without a trans character as the lead. In Adam, Nicholas Alexander (a cis male actor) plays Adam, a cis male character who, after stumbling into New York City's queer scene, winds up pretending to be a trans guy. It sounds terrible, I know! But hear me out — Adam uses this scenario to flip expectations and, in the process, center transness while putting cis perspectives on the sidelines. Ernst (a trans man) does this through the friendship between Adam and trans man Ethan (The L Word: Gen Q's Leo Sheng). Their relationship proposes an alternative to a world where trans men grow up learning about masculinity (very often toxic) and sexuality (also often toxic) from a cis-centric perspective. Here, Adam comes of age through the wisdom of a man who has deeply investigated his relationship to conventional masculinity. Though a divisive film, Adam's worth seeing for the complex conversations it'll give way to. — O.W.

How to watch: Adam is streaming on Kanopy, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

26. Colette (2018)

Credit: Bleeker Street Media / Moviestore / Shutterstock

The only thing better than a Keira Knightley period piece? An unabashedly queer one. In Colette, Knightley portrays the titular famous French novelist best known for her 1944 work, Gigi, who for years was the ghostwriter of novels her husband took credit for. Wash Westmoreland's film isn't most interesting as a literary biopic, though, but for the way it spotlights how Colette was openly and radically queer, especially for the early 20th century. Knightley's Colette has affairs with women, including a long relationship with Mathilde De Morny, a French trans man and aristocrat referred to as Max and Missy throughout history (though played here by cis actress Denise Gough). Their onstage kiss at the Moulin Rouge in 1907 famously sparked a riot. — O.W.

How to watch: Colette is streaming on Kanopy and Prime Video, and is available for rent or purchase on Apple TV+.

27. The Aggressives (2005)

In Daniel Peddle's documentary, there's one thing that each of his five subjects has in common: They all identify as "Aggressives," or "AG." That term can mean vastly different things from one person to the next. For Octavia, they're just a person who dresses like a dude with dude ways, while to Tiffany, it means carrying a femme-aggressive attitude and acting more like a gay guy. Rjai, on the other hand, is a ballroom champ with rows of trophies for walking in both masc and butch categories. And then there's Marquise Vilson, who binds his chest and describes himself as a trans lesbian; he's gone on to become a notable trans actor. Peddle's film is a rare document of Black and brown butch, transmasc, and gender nonconforming folks in the early aughts New York City that remains a beautiful showcase of the expansiveness of gender identity and expression outside the binary. — O.W.

How to watch: The Aggressives is streaming on Kanopy and Tubi, and is available for rent or purchase on Apple TV+.

28. Caravaggio (1986)

If you like your historical dramas ripe with unabashed queerness, look no further than the work of master British filmmaker Derek Jarman. In Caravaggio, Jarman queers the history of the Italian Baroque painter Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio by taking the highly homoerotic subtext of his work (along with age-old suspicions about his sexuality) and injecting it right into the text, reimagining the artist in openly gay affairs. This dazzling and layered meditation, with a mise en scène that evokes the compositions of a Caravaggio painting, finds the artist (played by Nigel Terry) engaged in romances with a street fighter (Sean Bean) and his girlfriend (Tilda Swinton). Even with no knowledge of Caravaggio or art history, Jarman's film is quite a trip, and one bubbling with queer desire. — O.W.

How to watch: Caravaggio is streaming on Kanopy.

29. Anything's Possible (2022)

A sweet coming-of-age romantic comedy where a young trans girl gets to be charmed and loved and swept off her feet like every other woman of rom-coms' past? Yes, please! Anything's Possible is the directorial debut from Billy Porter, with a script by trans screenwriter Ximena García Lecuona. Eva Reign stars as Kelsa, a high school senior who starts crushing on Khal (Abubakr Ali). The two flirt, go on a cute first date, and romance begins to brew. But jealousy and backlash from Kelsa's friend group gets ignited, and for the first time, Kelsa's transness becomes a topic of fiery attention at her school — and in her relationship. Anything's Possible has all the charm of a teen rom-com like To All the Boys I've Loved Before, but centers the story on a trans girl without making her identity the sole focus of her character. — O.W.

How to watch: Anything's Possible is streaming on Prime Video.

30. Dicks: The Musical (2023)

Credit: A24

Imagine The Parent Trap as a scorching satire of queer culture and homophobic fears, and you'll get some idea of what's in store with writers/stars Josh Sharp and Aaron Jackson's outrageous musical comedy. But nothing can prepare you for Megan Thee Stallion's ode to putting alpha males in their place, or the madcap chaos of Megan Mullally's ad-libs, or even national treasure Nathan Lane spitting ham at his beloved Sewer Boys. It's also got Bowen Yang as God, and a finale number that is as joyous as it is absolutely iconoclastic. Seeking something unapologetically outrageous? Nothing made us laugh as hard or loud or long as Dicks: The Musical.* — K.P.

How to watch: Dicks: The Musical is now streaming on HBO Max.

31. Disclosure (2020)

Ask anyone over 20 to name the first time they saw a trans character portrayed on screen, and it'll likely fall into one of the following categories: a villainous monster, a mocked disgrace, or a sad tragedy ending in death. Sam Feder's documentary Disclosure charts the history of transness depicted across film and TV, showing that from cinema's silent origins to the modern series of today, trans people have always been present, but largely only to be derided, misrepresented, and gawked at. With a mix of archival footage and talking head interviews with dozens of trans actors, directors, and authors, Disclosure offers a rare glimpse of a trans perspective on the painful history of representation in media. It's vital educational viewing for cis audiences. For trans folks, it provides a cathartic look back on an ugly history, but with a hopeful promise of what visibility can look like. — O.W.

How to watch: Disclosure is streaming on Netflix.

32. The Matrix (1999)

Credit: Moviestore / Shutterstock

What better way to celebrate Pride than by watching the most famous trans movie of all time, The Matrix? (It's canon, deal with it.) The sci-fi action epic may not be explicitly trans on the surface, but as trans critics and audiences over the years have observed, Neo's tale down the rabbit hole is littered with subtextual allusions to trans identity. There's the red/blue pill "splinter in your mind" metaphor for hormone therapy, the "waking up" and "unplugging" from the Matrix as a realization of one's gender when the egg shell cracks, the fact that Neo keeps getting deadnamed by Agent Smith, the whole essence of Trinity — you can go on and on. Read this sci-fi classic how you will, but once you start spotting all the trans symbolism, in the words of Morpheus, "There's no turning back." — O.W.

How to watch: The Matrix is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

33. Swan Song (2021)

Credit: Chris Stephens / Magnolia Pictures

Inspired by the real-life "Liberace of Sandusky, [Ohio]," Swan Song stars heralded character actor Udo Kier as a Mr. Pat, a retired and unapologetically flamboyant hairdresser out to secure his legacy with one last hurrah of a hairdo. Striding back into his old haunts to reconcile with his past, this wickedly funny hero finds new friends, old foes, and the glory of a mint-green vintage suit. With a fine wit, bold style, and a big heart, writer/director Todd Stephens' film pays dazzling tribute to a generation of gay men who were decimated by AIDS and societal indifference. Swirling together rage and gratitude into an intoxicating cocktail, Kier gives the best performance of his long and storied career.* — K.P.

How to watch: Swan Song is now streaming on Kanopy and available to rent or buy on Amazon Prime.

34. Moonlight (2016)

Credit: David Bornfriend / A24 / Kobal / Shutterstock

Director Barry Jenkins' Academy Award-winning Best Picture may use some of the formulaic components seen in other coming-of-age stories, but it imbues them with such immense inventiveness and originality that to compare Moonlight to anything else feels like an insult. This film has rightly been called some of the most impactful filmmaking in history, a perennial meditation on abuse, regret, pain, and acceptance. — Alison Foreman, Entertainment Reporter

How to watch: Moonlight is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

35. Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001)

Hedwig and the Angry Inch is always best enjoyed on the stage. But when a visit to the theater isn't an option, director and star John Cameron Mitchell's screen adaptation more than does the trick. In this musical dramedy, Stephen Trask's spectacular songs once again come to life as the titular and iconic East German rock singer explores revenge, betrayal, and acceptance. — A.F.

How to watch: Hedwig and the Angry Inch is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

36-38. The Fear Street Trilogy (2021)

Credit: Netflix

A stellar example of queer horror hit in three parts in 2021, when R.L. Stine's beloved YA book series inspired a slasher trilogy centered on a lesbian couple. Kiana Madeira and Olivia Scott Welch are suffering the standard torments of teendom when the local legend of a vicious witch upends their lives — and may end them! Director Leigh Janiak ushers audiences through three eras of terror, chasing her heroes through shopping malls, summer camps, and colonial forests to unearth the dark truth of Shadyside. — K.P.

How to watch: Fear Street: Part One: 1994 is streaming on Netflix.

How to watch: Fear Street: Part Two: 1978 is streaming on Netflix.

How to watch: Fear Street: Part Three: 1666 is streaming on Netflix.

39. The Watermelon Woman (1996)

Credit: Dancing Girl / Kobal / Shutterstock

Director Cheryl Dunye's cinematic debut brings utter fearlessness to righting wrongs. In this romantic comedy, Dunye plays a pseudo-autobiographical version of herself intent on giving credit to the Black actors and filmmakers that came before her but were too often left unnamed. Widely regarded as the first feature-length film directed by an openly lesbian Black woman, The Watermelon Woman remains a triumph almost 30 years later. — A.F.

How to watch: The Watermelon Woman is streaming on Kanopy, and is available for rent or purchase on Apple TV+.

40. My Beautiful Laundrette (1985)

In this charming, sexy, and silly comedy from Stephen Frears, Gordon Warnecke and Daniel Day-Lewis play childhood friends-turned-lovers struggling to make the most of their meager means. When the pair take over a laundromat together, they must face the normal pitfalls of operating a business as well as battle the political climate surrounding immigrants in '80s Great Britain. — A.F.

How to watch: My Beautiful Laundrette is streaming on Kanopy and Pluto TV, and is available to rent or purchase on Prime Video or Apple TV+.

41. Rift (2017)

Want something uniquely chilling? Then check out this 2017 Icelandic thriller set in a frigid and frightful landscape. Written and directed by Erlingur Thoroddsen, Rift follows a man (Björn Stefánsson) to a remote cabin, where he hopes to help his distraught ex-boyfriend (Sigurður Þór Óskarsson) and maybe find some closure over their breakup. However, their reunion is rattled by a series of strange events that suggest they aren't alone. Something is in the darkness, watching and waiting. This fantastic film lures you in with beautiful vistas and a slow-burn pace, then spirals into scares sure to linger like a cold shiver down your spine.* — K.P.

How to watch: Rift is streaming on Kanopy and is available to rent or purchase on Prime Video.

42. Carol (2016)

Based on Patricia Highsmith's groundbreaking 1952 novel, Todd Haynes' Carol brings the lives of Carol Aird and Therese Belivet to the screen through actors Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara. This masterful rendition of a Christmas-set romance will pull at your heartstrings in all of the right ways, permanently nestling into a corner of your soul. — A.F.

How to watch: Carol is streaming on Hulu and is available for rent or purchase on Apple TV+.

43. Benedetta (2021)

Credit: IFC Films

When you hear that the director of Showgirls made a movie about lesbian nuns, you might suspect Benedetta to be outlandishly raunchy and ferociously campy, reveling in the trashy tropes. However, Paul Verhoeven brings exquisite artistry to this stranger-than-fiction tale, delivering a biopic full of outrageous moments with a sophisticated yet wicked wit. Virginie Efira stars as 17th-century Italian nun Benedetta Carlini, who drew raised eyebrows in her convent not only because of the miracles she seemed to perform but also because of her romance with a fellow sister (Daphne Patakia). — K.P.

How to watch: Benedetta is streaming on AMC+, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

44. Weekend (2011)

Tom Cullen and Chris New redefine the chance encounter in director Andrew Haigh's Weekend. Told over the course of a 48-hour period, this stirring, passionate romance considers the impacts strangers can have on one another — even when their time together is cut all too short. — A.F.

How to watch: Weekend is streaming on The Criterion Channel and Kanopy, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

45. Tongues Untied (1989)

Artist Marlon Riggs' experimental film Tongues Untied addresses the onslaught of racist and homophobic prejudices Black gay men have been forced to endure and navigate for decades. Combining documentary footage with scripted personal accounts, this 55-minute film remains an impactful and relevant point of reference in intersectional LGBTQ activism. — A.F.

How to watch: Tongues Untied is streaming on Kanopy.

46. Love, Simon (2018)

Folks looking for a heartwarming, sweet, and goofy romp to accompany the perfect at-home Pride celebration can stop their search. Love, Simon, starring the always charming Nick Robinson, broke ground as the first major studio film to focus on a gay teen romance. Delightful as it is important, this movie combines the best of rom-coms and coming out stories to check every box on a movie lover's list. — A.F.

How to watch: Love, Simon is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video, Apple TV+, YouTube, and Google Play.

47. Shiva Baby (2021)

Credit: Utopia

Here's a nightmare scenario: You're a young, bi Jewish woman (Rachel Sennott) who just finished hooking up with one of your sex-work clients — he's rich and cute and, hey, maybe you kinda like him. You show up at the shiva your parents dragged you to, and oh fuck, Sugar Daddy walks in…with a hot wife…holding a newborn baby. And he knows your parents. Oh, and your ex-girlfriend, who's been a total flake lately, is there too. Emma Seligman's debut feature is like the Jewish comedic version of Trey Edward Schults' Krisha, only it finds the humor (and the suffocating anxiety) in the chaos. And it does it all in only an hour and 17 minutes.* — O.W.

How to watch: Shiva Baby is streaming on Kanopy and Netflix, and is available to rent or buy on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

48. Happy Together (1997)

Credit: Block 2 Pics / Kobal / Shutterstock

Directed by Wong Kar-wai, this nail-biting romantic saga depicts a tumultuous relationship on the brink of collapse. The film's leads, Leslie Cheung and Tony Leung Chiu-wai, explore passion and its limitations as Happy Together provides a unique, if not jarring, glimpse into affairs of the heart. — A.F.

How to watch: Happy Together is streaming on HBO Max.

49. But I'm a Cheerleader (2000)

Natasha Lyonne stars as a cheerleader forced to attend a conversion therapy camp in what may very well be the greatest lesbian fairytale of all time. Directed by Jamie Babbit, But I'm a Cheerleader was met with lukewarm reviews in 2000 but has since garnered a well-deserved cult following. Come for the promise of RuPaul trying to pretend he's straight; stay for a first kiss scene featuring Clea DuVall that will knock your pom-poms off. — A.F.

How to watch: But I'm a Cheerleader is streaming on Tubi and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

50. Wig (2019)

One of the most iconic events of New York City Pride, Wigstock has taken many forms over the years. Watch as director Chris Moukarbel follows present-day queens as they attempt to revitalize the festival made popular by legends, like Lady Bunny, in 2018. — A.F.

How to watch: Wig is available to stream on HBO Max.

51. Velvet Goldmine (1998)

Credit: Peter Mountain / Zenith / Killer / Kobal / Shutterstock

Another glittering gift from Todd Haynes, this '70s-set drama plays like fan fiction, penned about queer icons like David Bowie, Lou Reed, and Oscar Wilde. Jonathan Rhys Meyers stars as a glam rock star who wins the heart of a headstrong American punk (Ewan McGregor), a glitzy party girl (Toni Collette), and the devotion of a young teen coming into his own (Christian Bale). Stuffed with incredible music, scintillating spectacle, and unapologetically queer lust, Velvet Goldmine is beautiful and bold even before you realize Haynes mopped its narrative structure from Citizen Kane. — K.P.

How to watch: Velvet Goldmine is now available for rent or purchase on Prime Video.

52. Paris Is Burning (1990)

It's the film you knew had to be on this list. Director Jennie Livingston's unparalleled documentary Paris Is Burning captures the New York City drag ball culture of the late '80s with style, grace, and intelligence. It's a powerful reflection on wealth disparity, race discrimination, and stigma surrounding the LGBTQ community — a must-see if there's ever been one. — A.F.

How to watch: Paris Is Burning is now streaming on The Criterion Channel and on HBO Max, and is available for rent or purchase on Apple TV+.

53. Brokeback Mountain (2005)

Jake Gyllenhaal and the late Heath Ledger shepherd a nuanced narrative of passion, fear, romance, and shame in director Ang Lee's tale of star-crossed lovers in rural Wyoming and Texas. A timeless reflection on what it takes to unite who you are expected to be with who you really are, Brokeback Mountain can be a little sappy — but its faultless message always lands. — A.F.

How to watch: Brokeback Mountain is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

54. How to Survive a Plague (2012)

Reporter David France looks back on the HIV/AIDS epidemic in this riveting, comprehensive documentary. Weaving hundreds of hours of archival footage into a cohesive narrative on the LGBTQ community's fight against biased healthcare practices, How to Survive a Plague bottles what it means to make societal change happen before it's too late. — A.F.

How to watch: How to Survive a Plague is streaming on Pluto TV, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

55. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

Credit: Neon

Writer-director Céline Sciamma will blow you away with this historical French drama. Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel lead as a painter and her unwilling subject whose intimate time together begins a secret romance that threatens to unravel them both. Painful and poetic, Portrait of a Lady on Fire is the under-appreciated watch you need to make time for. — A.F.

How to watch: Portrait of a Lady on Fire is streaming on HBO Max and Kanopy, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

56. The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994)

Terence Stamp, Hugo Weaving, and Guy Pearce star as drag performers traveling the Australian outback in this heartfelt comedy packed with iconic one-liners and costume changes. (It should be noted that this film contains some outdated, racist portrayals of non-white characters. Many argue the film remains a historic text for the changes it brought about in mainstream acceptance of LGBTQ art.) — A.F.

How to watch: The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert is streaming on Tubi and Prime Video.

57. Upstairs Inferno (2015)

Documentarian Robert L. Camina remembers the catastrophic fire that took the lives of 32 people at New Orleans gay bar UpStairs Lounge on June 24, 1973. Witnesses to the tragedy reflect on the lives lost, the expected arsonist behind the attack, and the city's lacking response to community devastation. This is a heartbreaking but essential chapter in any LGBTQ history book. — A.F.

How to watch: Upstairs Inferno is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

58. Kiki (2016)

There has never been a better time to revisit Sara Jordenö's breathtaking Kiki. Centered on the drag and ballroom scene of New York City and those communities' roles in rebuffing systemic intersectional bias, this documentary is an inspiring reminder that joy and love can bring about lasting change — but not without profound struggle. — A.F.

How to watch: Kiki is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

59. Pariah (2011)

Credit: Chicken and Egg / MBK / Northstar / Kobal / Shutterstock

Adepero Oduye devastates in this coming-of-age story. A cinematic journey that leaps from the screen straight to your soul, Pariah follows a 17-year-old Black girl as she fights to accept her lesbian identity and reconcile her sexual orientation with her family's vision of the future. — A.F.

How to watch: Pariah is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

60. Scream, Queen! My Nightmare on Elm Street (2019)

Queer horror is a genre full of cringeworthy moves. But fans of the much-maligned A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge came to embrace its quirky dance number and its groundbreaking scream queen, Mark Patton. Teaming with documentarians Tyler Jensen and Roman Chimienti, this fascinating leading man steps back into the spotlight to share his story as a closeted gay actor who survived public mockery and the AIDS crisis to find a love and community that takes pride in him. — K.P.

How to watch: Scream, Queen! My Nightmare on Elm Street is streaming on Tubi, and is available for rent or purchase on Apple TV+.

61. The Favourite (2018)

Only star Olivia Colman walked away with an Oscar for her work on The Favourite, but the 2018 historical black comedy more than earned its fair share of praise. Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, this Best Picture nominee tells the story of two courtiers, played by Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone, vying for the favor of Queen Anne (Colman). An excellent argument against aristocracies — and owning too many rabbits — this darkly hilarious and queer romp is well worth a watch. — A.F.

How to watch: The Favourite is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video, Apple TV+, YouTube, and Google Play.

62. We Were Here (2011)

Director David Weissman's documentary We Were Here transports viewers back to the San Francisco LGBTQ scene of the '80s and '90s as interview subjects relive their struggle to contend with the unfathomable HIV/AIDS crisis. A testament to the strength of the human spirit and the power of community, this is a history lesson worth paying attention to. — A.F.

How to watch: We Were Here is streaming Kanopy, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

63. Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Timothée Chalamet leads in director Luca Guadagnino's stunning coming-of-age romance. Winner of Best Adapted Screenplay at the 90th Academy Awards, Call Me By Your Name approaches its starring couple with tenderness, understanding, and unshakable warmth. This is the perfect pick for a cozy-yet-ethereal night in. — A.F.

How to watch: Call Me by Your Name is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

64. Tomboy (2011)

Another installment from writer-director Céline Sciamma. Tomboy paints a staggering portrait of a gender non-conforming child grappling with societal expectations in a new environment. Full of hope but grounded in its true-to-life performances, this film exists as a testament to becoming who you really are at any age. Then-10-year-old Zoé Héran positively dazzles with her lead role. — A.F.

How to watch: Tomboy is streaming on The Criterion Channel.

65. A Fantastic Woman (2017)

Credit: Sony Classics / TIFF

Winner of Best Foreign Language Film at the 90th Academy Awards, director Sebastián Lelio's A Fantastic Woman is a tragedy and triumph for the ages. Daniela Vega plays a woman who loses her partner unexpectedly. Amidst her grief, she must contend with her late partner's family and their transphobia. This film offers exquisite cognizance of the pain prejudice can add to existing loss. — A.F.

How to watch: A Fantastic Woman is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

66. My Own Private Idaho (1991)

Keanu Reeves and the late River Phoenix star in this 20th-century retelling of Shakespeare's Henry IV and Henry V. Director Gus Van Sant guides his leads through a tense, melancholy exploration of intimacy, power, and uncertainty that never fails to deliver poignant reflection despite its adventure-fueled storyline. Oh, and the pair's chemistry is...searing. — A.F.

How to watch: My Own Private Idaho is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video, Apple TV+, and Google Play.

67. The Half of It (2020)

Credit: KC Bailey / Netflix

Since arriving on Netflix last year, The Half of It has quietly built a following of young queer people enchanted by its presentation of coming out. Starring Leah Lewis as Ellie Chu, an introverted Chinese-American high schooler, this romantic comedy is yet another retelling of the 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac, but with an intense honesty to its subject that makes it stand out. — A.F.

How to watch: The Half of It is streaming on Netflix.

68. Milk (2008)

In director Gus Van Sant's astounding biopic, Sean Penn stars as activist and politician Harvey Milk. The first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California, Milk progressed the rights of LGBTQ Americans by unprecedented leaps and bounds. Milk honors that legacy with its heartfelt imagining of an icon. Penn won Best Actor for his portrayal of Milk at the 81st Academy Awards. — A.F.

How to watch: Milk is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

69. Tangerine (2015)

Credit: Augustas Quirk / Magnolia / Duplass Brothers Prods / Kobal / Shutterstock

Director Sean Baker's low-budget tour de force follows transgender sex worker Sin-Dee Rella (played by the effervescent Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) as she seeks to enact revenge on the man who cheated on her and the cisgender woman he cheated with. Bittersweet and hysterical, Tangerine is a one-of-a-kind viewing experience you'll cherish forever. — A.F.

How to watch: Tangerine is streaming on Kanopy and HBO Max, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

70. The Birdcage (1996)

Credit: Lorey Sebastian / United Artists / Kobal / Shutterstock

In the wake of an unexpected wedding, The Birdcage chronicles the chaotic blending of two very different families. Along the way, Nathan Lane dons full drag, Robin Williams dances his pleated pants off, and Gene Hackman brings remarkable depth to his straight-man role. This is the perfect pick if you want something light and fun to watch with your chosen family. — A.F.

How to watch: The Birdcage is now streaming on Hulu and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

71. Rafiki (2018)

Starring Samantha Mugatsia and Sheila Munyiva as burgeoning lovers, Rafiki was banned in Kenya "due to its homosexual theme and clear intent to promote lesbianism in Kenya contrary to the law." As a result, of course, much of the rest of the queer world embraced it as a symbol against censorship. Director Wanuri Kahiu treats those viewers to a positively enchanting romance, one that only emphasizes the need for LGBTQ equality everywhere. — A.F.

How to watch: Rafiki is streaming on Kanopy, and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

72. Welcome to Chechnya (2020)

The third film from Academy Award-nominated documentarian David France, Welcome to Chechnya takes viewers on a guerilla-style investigation into the anti-gay purges that still plague the constituent republic of Russia. 

Not only does the explosive project detail the abhorrent policies created by Vladimir Putin and Chechen leader Ramzan Kadyrov to criminalize homosexuality, it also delves into the insidious culture the government has instilled in its citizens to encourage hate crimes. It’s a painful watch that demands attention from viewers, focusing in large part on the courageous efforts of underground networks working to help LGBTQ people escape the region.*  — A.F.

How to watch: Welcome to Chechnya is streaming on HBO Max, and is available to purchase on Apple TV+.

73. The Living End (1992)

Credit: Strand / Desperate / Kobal / Shutterstock

Often dubbed the gay Thelma & Louise, Gregg Araki's The Living End follows the reckless road trip of two HIV-positive, anti-establishment gay men who go on the run after killing a homophobic cop. There's Jon (Craig Gilmore), a slender, downbeat film critic who just found out his HIV status, and Luke (Mike Dytri), a hustler hunk who looks like he walked right out of Kenneth Anger's Scorpio Rising. The two become lovers and quickly set out on a fuck-everything crime spree across California. A fixture of New Queer Cinema that put Araki on the map, this low-budget punk queer road movie is sizzling with radical rage, and feels as fresh as ever today. — O.W.

How to watch: The Living End is streaming on Kanopy and is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

74. Imagine Me and You (2005)

There are two types of queers: those who saw beloved lesbian rom-com Imagine Me & You early in their queerness and were forever changed, and those who've never heard of the undersung British movie. If you're in the latter camp, I’m so thrilled to finally introduce you to this silly, charming romance. Rachel (Piper Perabo donning a British accent) is about to marry her best friend, Heck (Matthew Goode), but as she's walking down the aisle, her eyes catch a woman named Luce (Lena Headey), and something indescribable happens. It's love at first sight, as they say, and thus begins a sweet love story between Rachel, who's only ever dated men, and Luce, an openly gay florist in the most '00s lesbian wardrobe you've ever seen. It's delightfully cheery and has an ending that will, shockingly, leave you teary-eyed with joy. A queer rom-com classic through and through. — O.W.

How to watch: Imagine Me & You is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video, Apple TV+, and YouTube.

75. Before Stonewall (1984)

Filmmakers Greta Schiller and Robert Rosenberg did a public service in their creation of the seminal documentary Before Stonewall. An educational yet humorous work that provides essential context to the LGBTQ community's long-fought campaign for civil rights, this is a great starting place for anyone eager to better appreciate just how far acceptance has come and how far it still has to go. — A.F.

How to watch: Before Stonewall is available for rent or purchase on Prime Video and Apple TV+.

Asterisks (*) indicate the write-up comes from a previous Mashable list.

UPDATE: May. 23, 2025, 2:57 p.m. EDT This list has been updated with active links and additional movie recommendations.

Last week, Match Group (the conglomerate that owns Tinder, Hinge, OkCupid, and many others) announced it acquired the sapphic dating app HER.

HER founder Robyn Exton posted on LinkedIn that, "I'm incredibly proud to say that Match Group sees the value in this incredible space we've built. Maybe even more importantly, they see the power and presence of the sapphic community." (Sapphic, like WLW, is an umbrella term to describe non-male attraction to women and femmes.)

"We are not a niche. We are not an afterthought. We are a global audience with a voice, a culture, and a future. And now we have the backing to build for that future with more care, more depth, and even more ambition," Exton continued. She shared more about the history of HER on the app's blog.

Spencer Rascoff, Match Group's CEO (and soon-to-be Tinder CEO), shared the post. "We're honored to welcome HER into the Match Group family, and we know our role is not to change what makes HER special, but to protect it and help it grow even stronger," he wrote. (No financial terms were publicly disclosed.)

But despite Rascoff's enthusiasm and Exton's optimism, the vibe from lesbians and queer women across the net has been...apprehensive.

In a recent Reddit thread on r/actuallesbians, users shared their thoughts on the acquisition, with most agreeing that they feel uneasy about the deal. One Reddit user wrote, "Time to request to have your data deleted and purge your account." Another one added, "Time to never use HER again, I guess."

"The enshittification of everything continues," a third person commented, referring to the phrase about how online services decline over time.

This could be because of a growing distrust of dating apps in general, as AI features take over and apps — many of which Match Group owns — are becoming homogenized.

Other people on the thread said that the app was either already "terrible" or that they were happy to have found their partner on the app before the acquisition. In general, however, the buy seems to be stirring up uncertainty, mistrust, and even fear (one person mentioned the report about how Match Group concealed assault cases).

Exton told Mashable in an emailed statement that this is a huge moment for HER. "Match Group gets it — they understand the power of queer platforms and are giving us the tools to continue what we are doing now but with even more resources and support," she wrote. "What's not changing? The heart of HER."

Exton went on to say that HER's team, goals, and values aren't changing, and that the acquisition is just the beginning. "We'll always be here and queer, still community-first, and still deeply committed to building a space that centers us, celebrates us, and grows with us," she continued.

It's probably too soon to tell if Match Group will live up to its promise to "protect" what makes HER special. For now, the sapphic community is holding its breath.

After 45 grieving families, youth advocates, and child safety experts brought 600 roses and a petition with over 10,000 signatures demanding stronger protections for kids on Meta platforms, security swept the flowers away — a reminder of how Meta continues to sweep away our stories.

I was a teenager when naked images of me were shared on Facebook without my consent. The sexual harassment that followed was relentless — threats, slurs, and dehumanizing language filled my inbox. I reported the abuse to the platforms, but the responses, if any, reinforced that these tech giants do not prioritize their users, especially children.  

Online abuse doesn't stay online. It follows users into every classroom, therapy session, and nightmare. I graduated high school with anxiety, suicidal ideation, and a profound sense of isolation. I survived. But what about the kids who did not survive? Mason Edens, Selena Rodriguez, Riley Rodee are just a few of many children who died by suicide after experiencing abuse and promotion of self-harm online.  

That's why the recent decision by Meta’s Oversight Board to not remove two anti-trans videos cuts deep. The videos show a transgender woman confronted for using a women’s bathroom and a transgender athlete winning a track race, and include the misgendering, demeaning, and endangering of trans people. By allowing two anti-trans videos to stay online, the Board hasn’t just failed its responsibility to users but sanctioned similar violence I once begged Meta to stop. And this time, the target is the trans community. 

This isn't about algorithms or content policy. This is about life. And Meta just made a choice: platform hate over people. They chose wrong. 

Videos like these strip trans people of dignity, spread dangerous misinformation, and fuel the kind of hate that has real, violent consequences. And yet the Board calls it "free expression."

Even more disturbing is the contradiction buried in their decision — the same videos were taken down when posted by Meta itself, but allowed to remain when posted by "others." In other words, Meta admits this content violates its own values, just not when someone else uploads it. That's not moderation. That’s cowardice. 

This isn't a debate. Trans existence is not up for discussion. Whether or not you discuss trans and nonbinary people, we will continue to exist, and we deserve safety. Treating this rhetoric as just another side of a political argument legitimizes hate, and Meta knows it. They’ve chosen to look away — again. 

What happened to me wasn't an isolated incident. It's happening every day to young people everywhere, especially queer, trans, and nonbinary youth. LGBTQ+ youth are three times more likely to experience unwanted or unsafe interactions online, and still, the platforms that promise connection keep delivering cruelty.

When I was violated online, I thought I was the exception. But I've since met survivors whose stories echo mine like a scream through a tunnel. Some had their images stolen and circulated. Some lost their children to sextortion-induced suicide. Some were AI-manipulated into oblivion. Some received death threats after coming out. 

That's what makes the Oversight Board's ruling so dangerous. It isn't just that Meta is allowing anti-trans hate — it's that they are doing so after years failing to moderate transphobia. The patterns are there. The reports are there. The trauma is there. They've just chosen not to act on it.

Hate doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it spreads when given a platform. And when it's legitimized by one of the most powerful tech companies in the world, it grows teeth. I've felt them. 

In January 2025, Meta made a quiet but devastating shift. They gutted their human content moderation teams, leaned harder on flawed AI systems, and shut down partnerships with fact-checkers and safety experts. It wasn’t a glitch. It was a strategy: reduce liability, cut costs, and call it innovation. But what Meta calls "efficiency" comes at the expense of safety. Of truth. Of lives.

The Oversight Board's ruling isn’t a one-off failure — it's the natural result of Meta’s retreat from responsibility. They’re not just enabling harm; they're designing systems that scale it.

I've seen what happens when platforms walk away from protecting people. I've lived inside the wreckage. I can tell you this: Meta's current trajectory isn't just unethical. It's lethal. That's why we're not asking. We're demanding.

We demand that Meta reinstate robust human content moderation — especially for hate speech, CSAM, and targeted harassment. We demand immediate removal of anti-trans hate and clear consequences for those who spread it. We demand transparency, accountability, and a CEO willing to face the damage his platforms have caused. 

I survived what Meta allowed to happen to me. But I carry the scars in my nervous system, in my relationships, in the way I move through the world. And I know there are others — kids just like I was — logging in today, not knowing what’s coming for them.

That's why I'm writing this. Not just as a survivor, but as a witness. To say: this is not abstract. This is not academic. This is blood, bone, and breath. If Meta won't protect us, we'll protect each other. If they won’t listen, we'll make them hear us. I made it out. But no one else should have to survive what I did just to grow up online. 

Leah Juliett (they/them/theirs) is a poet, community organizer, and activist for queer futures and against Big Tech. They live in Connecticut. This column reflects the opinion of the writer.

The last time I was around Tim Cook, I was screaming, "Queer kids need you" at the top of my lungs. Holding signs asking him to stop selling unsafe phones to kids, our team at the Heat Initiative — a nonprofit working to keep kids safe online — tried calling on someone who we thought was one of the last Big Tech CEOs with a heart. Being the first openly gay man to head a Fortune 500 company, I hoped he would shatter the glass ceiling, allowing more young LGBTQ+ people to envision a similar path of excellence. Instead, he carved out just enough space for him to step through, sealing it back up and joining the other tech oligarchs in their pristine detachment from the rest of society. 

The Big Tech oligarchy was front and center at Trump’s inauguration, showing Americans who were really about to run our country. Watching Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg play teacher’s pet was expected. But Cook donating $1 million to Trump’s inauguration was a shock. Until then, I had relatively neutral-to-positive things to say about Cook’s leadership. I hoped the company’s failure to keep kids safe on their devices and platforms would end up being one of the rare black spots in Cook's rather impressive corporate history. One thing has become abundantly clear: Child safety is no longer the only black spot in Cook’s time at Apple. Tim Cook himself is harming Apple’s reputation. 

Trump’s tariffs have been getting a lot of air time. Given that they impact working-class Americans' lives, I hoped my dissenting opinion on them would be proven wrong. After all, the idea of more manufacturing in the U.S. sounds good, I just think that using the livelihoods of Americans as a bargaining tool is wrong.

But tech giants like Apple are also being hammered by the tariffs, with their stock price see-sawing thanks to Trump's chaotic policy. It was refreshing to see that these attacks were not just happening to our most vulnerable, but also to our most powerful — including a giant corporation that has not done enough to protect vulnerable populations, like kids and LGBTQ+ Americans, from online dangers. Thanks to the tariffs, Cook's $1 million suck up donation to Trump was turning out to be a waste. 

That was short lived. Suddenly, smartphones were now temporarily exempt from the tariffs, proving once again that it really is that easy to buy favors from the leader of the "free" world. With the exemption, presented to the public as a way to protect Americans' accessibility to devices, Cook could rest easy knowing that his stock price would bounce back and his and his stockholders' pockets would continue to fill. Then, Trump equivocated again, calling the exemption temporary. Maybe Cook's $1 million wasn't enough? Or maybe having a strong moral code, and standing up for what (and who) is right, is good business sense in the end.

This past weekend, Cook’s alma mater, Auburn University, celebrated their famous alumni day. My team and I were on the ground, with a hilarious parody blimp of Cook holding money bags and a phone that says "profits over kids," talking to people on campus. We connected with an engineer that geeked out about hash matching technology, a privacy forward technology to detect known child sexual abuse material; a family talking about the regret of giving their daughter a phone too early; and young people aware of their iPhone addiction.

I miss the feeling of being excited about Apple’s newest technology. Here’s hoping Cook, thanks to Trump's treatment, has an epiphany and transforms back into the leader we know he should be. 

Lennon Torres is a Public Voices Fellow on Prevention of Child Sexual Abuse with The OpEd Project. She is an LGBTQ+ advocate who grew up in the public eye, gaining national recognition as a young dancer on television shows. With a deep passion for storytelling, advocacy, and politics, Lennon now works to center the lived experience of herself and others as she crafts her professional career in online child safety at Heat Initiative. Lennon’s LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/lennon-torres-325b791b4/

An incisive expression of family and culture that neither apologizes nor over-explains itself, Roshan Sethi's A Nice Indian Boy is a riotous, moving queer romantic comedy with a wildly unique premise. While it resembles many modern third-culture stories — specifically, tales of disconnect between first-generation South Asians in the West and their immigrant parents — it widens its scope in surprising ways that reflect and refract both personal and cinematic identity.

Taking inspiration from a romantic Bollywood classic, the film follows a gay Indian American doctor whose parents are nominally accepting, but who want him to find "a nice Indian boy." Long story short: He does! The immediate wrinkle, however, is that this nice Indian boy is none other than Jonathan Groff — yes, Hamilton's original King George — playing a white man raised by Indian parents. 

On one hand, A Nice Indian Boy is the tale of a typical Indian American family, with typical Indian American problems — a generational disconnect, gendered double standards, and a culture of awkward silence around sexuality — but on the other hand, its evolution into grand romantic saga is anything but typical. It's also a story of cross-cultural adoption that dovetails into not only a hilariously awkward meet-the-parents comedy, but also a film about freeing oneself from emotional and generational baggage, in a way that yields tears of joy and laughter.

What is A Nice Indian Boy about?

Credit: Blue Harbor Entertainment

Dr. Naveen Gavaskar (Deadpool's Karan Soni) is the kind of realistic queer protagonist seldom seen in Hollywood: an introverted gay man who'd rather be at home than at the club — or in the case of the movie's opening scene, at his sister's colorful wedding reception. As the guests dance to thumping tunes, and the camera tilts and spins to capture them, Naveen sits still, fending off over-enthusiastic family members whose words of marital encouragement sound more like a dire warning: "You're next!"

What Naveen's nosy aunties and uncles don't know, and what his parents begrudgingly accept, is that his wedding won't quite look like a Hindi movie, since he happens to be into guys.

Six years go by — notably, the amount of time between Sethi coming out and the film's premiere — and Naveen's life away from his parents is somewhat content, even though it involves lonely nights of leaving exes and crushes some uncomfortably awkward voice messages. He has absolutely no game, despite the efforts of his outgoing gay colleague Paul (Peter S. Kim) to bring him out of his shell. But the gods eventually smile on him when he comes across an attractive white photographer, Jay Kurundkar (Groff), at his local mandir (or temple) while praying to a statue of Ganesh, the elephant-headed Hindu god of wisdom and good luck.

Two things immediately stand out about Jay: his tranquil charm, and his authentic pronunciation of "Ganesh" — with an extended "e" as in "lace," rather than the protracted "e" of words like "less," to which most Westerners default. Naveen is immediately flustered by Jay's confident stares, but agrees to accompany him on a date to his favorite movie, which, to the good doctor's surprise, turns out to be Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (or DDLJ), the iconic 1995 Bollywood romance about two star-crossed Indian Londoners, whose musical centerpiece features superstar Shah Rukh Khan serenading actress Kajol in a field of yellow mustard flowers.

But instead of being bowled over by this gesture, Naveen finds himself unable to fully embrace the film or Jay's off-key crooning of its famous track, "Tujhe Dekha To" (yes, Groff sings it himself, with barely a syllable out of place). Sincerity and vulnerability remain obstacles to Naveen, even after he and Jay start dating. This proves mildly problematic when meeting each other's friends, but it's downright disastrous when the question of Jay meeting Naveen's parents arises, given how little he's told them about his white, freelance photographer boyfriend who vapes and waxes poetic about Hindi cinema.

The results are as side-splitting as they are disheartening, because the one lesson A Nice Indian Boy takes from DDLJ is that Indian romantic films are family dramas too. However, what initially seems hopeless ends up an exciting challenge, because Jay has also internalized this lesson. And, like Shah Rukh Khan's brash Raj Malhotra, he'll stop at nothing to win over the parents of the person he loves.

A Nice Indian Boy is also a family drama.

Credit: Blue Harbor Entertainment

The film, written by Eric Randall, is based on the play by Madhuri Shekar, and it has the structure of a five-act play, with each section broken up by significant time jumps. This ends up serving a dual purpose. On one hand, this shifts the typical feel-good rom-com climax to the middle of the story, away from its usual place in most three-act Hollywood screenplays, where it serves as a resolution. In the process, A Nice Indian Boy allows for the realities of long-term romance and wedding planning to creep in through the corners of the frame, beyond the broad declarations of love.

On the other hand, it also allows each member of Naveen's family to have their own dedicated section of the movie, during which they become a primary character. Like Naveen, his sister Arundhathi (Sunita Mani) harbors a grudge against their parents for the choices she did and didn't have while growing up, including in matters of love, and she sees their increased leeway with Naveen as a matter of grave injustice. Meanwhile, their outspoken mother Megha (Zarna Garg) tries to smooth things over with both children, but since she's just as hot-headed as her daughter, it's easier said than done. In terms of temperament, Naveen takes after his father Archit (Harish Patel), though his silent acceptance of Naveen's sexuality — while avoiding eye contact at all cost — hurts more than outright disapproval. Like his son, Archit has a problem with expressing himself honestly.

However, Megha and Archit's genuine attempts to bridge the gap between themselves and Naveen also leads to some uproarious overcompensation, between the topics they bring up in Jay's presence without any filter whatsoever, to their sincere attempts to educate themselves by binging raunchy reality shows on OutTV and bringing them up in conversation. It's incredibly funny and incredibly sweet, but none of these superficial gestures — no matter how well-meaning — are a substitute for the real emotional work the Gavaskar family needs.

The film doesn't let Naveen off the hook either, whether it comes to his avoidance of intimacy or the walls he keeps up between him and his family members. Those walls only start to come down after some rigorous and difficult dramatic moments, which Sethi directs with incredible command.

A Nice Indian Boy is brilliantly directed.  

Credit: Blue Harbor Entertainment

The film's premise resembles a number of third-culture films and shows featuring South Asians in the West, like The Big Sick, Ms. Marvel, and Blinded by the Light. These stories of artistically driven first-gen kids and their immigrant parents who "just don't understand" have settled into a rote rhythm in recent years. A fellow SXSW selection, the lukewarm The Queen of My Dreams, is a key example: a similarly Bollywood-inspired tale of a queer Pakistani Canadian who nominally reconciles with her conservative mother. It's rarely a good sign when you can map out the beats of a story based on its cultural premise, but A Nice Indian Boy finds numerous visual and thematic ways to buck that trend.

It stands out, first and foremost, through its bustling visual energy, which not only captures the chaos and excitement constantly unfolding around Naveen — at weddings, family meetings, or parties hosted by Jay's outgoing friends — but also serves to magnify his glum stillness as the camera pushes in and pulls out prominently during both comedy beats and charged emotional moments. The film's comedy and drama stem from the same place: the tension of expectations, whether it involves Naveen wrestling with his prescribed role as an Indian man in the West; the implications of his queerness, according to his parents; or how Jay will fit into the Gavaskars' family dynamic.

What Jay yearns for, as a perpetual outsider who found love in an Indian household once before, is just as vital to the movie as Naveen's search for emotional authenticity. And when the film begins drawing more overtly from Bollywood iconography, it weaves together its grandiose romance from both their perspectives. To Jay, Hindi cinema is the ultimate expression of love and acceptance. To Naveen, it's a cheesy façade. The truth, it turns out, may lie somewhere in between, with Sethi presenting the story's key turning points as stylistic handshakes between formal grandeur and naturalistic, self-aware comedy, without compromising either character’s point of view. The movie's sweeping declarations are as bold and unapologetic as they are goofy and silly, so they end up running the emotional gamut.

Rarely has a rom-com been this simultaneously hysterical and touching, though despite its boisterous tone, its biggest strength may very well be its silent moments. The father-son pairing of Naveen and Archit tend to find solace in silence, and that isn't likely to change anytime soon. So, in order to draw them out of their comfort zones, A Nice Indian Boy becomes a film about gestures both big and small. Its most heartrending moments arrive in the form of these two men — separated by generational disconnect, but bound by common cultural expectations — adapting to other people's modes of expression in the small ways they're able to. Over the course of the film, they learn to speak other people's love languages, leading to rousing, overwhelming moments (some of them in delightful musical form). 

In a just world, A Nice Indian Boy would find instant distribution and be hailed alongside Mira Nair's Monsoon Wedding as a realistic family portrait whose jagged edges aren't just riveting, but revelatory. It's as sweet and funny as they come, and the kind of crowd-pleaser destined to leave your heart feeling full.

A Nice Indian Boy is now in theaters.

UPDATE: Apr. 2, 2025, 1:00 p.m. EDT A Nice Indian Boy was reviewed out of its World Premiere at SXSW 2024 on March 23, 2024. It has been updated for its theatrical run.

Bob the Drag Queen has wowed us on multiple stages: RuPaul's Drag Race, The Traitors, We're Here, Dimension 20's Dungeons and Drag Queens, and now as a first-time author. Here, he shares the journey of writing his first novel, Harriet Tubman: Live in Concert, which follows what happens when the historical abolitionist collaborates with a modern-day record producer to tell her story through song.

Harriet Tubman: Live in Concert is available now.

"Technology is anything that extends your agency," posits Allucquére Rosanne "Sandy" Stone, a foundational trans studies pioneer and digital performance artist included in Trans Technologies, a new book from MIT Press written by trans academic Oliver Haimson. Technology, then, is a near boundless way to intervene in the challenges of every day life, to make it better. But what happens when those in power try to dictate those terms, and attempt to use technology to strip individual agency?

As an expert in trans studies, social computing and social media, and what is known as human-computer interaction, Haimson poses the concept of "technological trans care," or the act of trans communities and allies "creating innovative technological mechanisms to help address the needs and challenges that they and their communities face." And if this sounds more relevant to our current political reality than ever before, you'd be right on the money.

Haimson is an assistant professor at the University of Michigan School of Information, director of the Community Research on Identity and Technology (CRIT) Lab, and a Senior Fellow at the Center for Applied Transgender Studies. The genesis of Trans Technologies came from the intersection of these scholarly and lived experiences: The repurposed and self-constructed online worlds that trans communities fashion for themselves in order to navigate a hostile social reality. Forums, Tumblr blogs, Discord servers, and even wholly original platforms present the complexities and ambiguities of the trans experience in a digital environment often fixated on strict gender binaries. 

But, in trying to document these digital environments, Haimson quickly realized the term "trans tech" could extend far beyond these networking tools. In their research, for example, Haimson's team found that the majority of trans technologies were created for resource gathering and the sharing of community knowledge — consider digital services like anti-trans legislation trackers, databases of LGBTQ-inclusive healthcare providers, or maps of queer-friendly businesses and job boards. Other examples expanded to hotlines, peer support networks, plug-ins, and even video games. There's also technology that isn't exactly "transed," as the academic explains, but that inherently affects trans people, like biometric tools (Face ID and filters), ride-sharing apps, and online credit platforms. 

"Most technology responds to fairly mundane problems," writes Haimson. "Problems that are rarely critically related to their creators’ identities and life chances. With trans technology, though, technological innovations are frequently created in direct response to the oppressive conditions trans people face in the social, legal, and medical spheres: transphobia, violence, antitrans legislation, difficulty identifying supportive resources, and lack of access to medical care."

Haimson describes trans tech as encompassing both technology designed with trans people at the center, as well as advances that respond to an increasingly bigoted use of technology's power (e.g., the current iteration of X as a locus of transphobic sentiment). With its earliest definition conceived of in 2019, an extension of decades-long queer theory and practice, trans technology is bearing added importance in 2025, when the world seems to be taking a rightward shift and misinformation is more weaponized than ever.

Central to the book's introduction, Haimson lays out this politically life-threatening reality: In 2023, the period that defined the tail-end of his team's research, 420 trans people were reportedly murdered amid growing violence, economic instability, and health precarity — keep in mind, these numbers are often vastly undercounted. In the year between the book's final edits and its upcoming release, those statistics haven't much improved. In 2024, 350 trans and gender-expansive individuals were murdered globally and 533 anti-LGBTQ bills were introduced in U.S. state legislatures, alone. President Donald Trump regularly takes aim at "gender ideology extremism" and is moving to erase LGBTQ resources, information, and history from federal websites.

Trump's technological allies have offered little resistance; more often, assistance. Elon Musk, multi-billionaire and now leader of DOGE, has taken over federal technologies in the name of an anti-woke, anti-fraud agenda. Mark Zuckerberg, CEO of Meta, repealed his company's DEI commitments and hateful conduct policies — a move that will certainly lead to a rise in online hate and harassment. Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, has funneled cash into Trump's push for power.

Mashable spoke to Haimson in the weeks before Trans Technologies' debut, as the federal government slashed gender-affirming care and inclusive hiring practices  — including a devastating pause on federal academic funding via the National Science Foundation, of which Haimson's team receives assistance — and just as federal courts began slowing down the new administrations' anti-trans orders. 

Could trans tech be another tool to fight back?

Mashable: You began your research and the extensive interviewing process that makes up the bulk of this book in 2021, following a surge of anti-trans legislation. How did that influence this work and what has changed?

Haimson: When I was first writing the book as all of this anti-trans legislation was happening across the country, starting in Texas and Florida and Idaho, trans people were angry. I was able to talk about all of these trans technologies that came about in response to that climate.

We're in this new moment, where people are feeling very scared, very angry. I think that a lot of the things I found that were happening a couple years ago, where people were creating these really important technologies to respond to that moment, we're going to see again. The one thing that is quite different now is that we've always thought about how we can improve mainstream platforms, like Instagram (owned by Meta). 'How can we make that more inclusive?' 

Meta seemed on board with that for most of the years I've been doing research in this space, and then it was just recently that Zuckerberg came out and changed his orientation entirely. So that's not a priority for mainstream platforms — they have no intention really of including trans people anymore. That makes me feel like this moment for trans technology is so important. It's so vital to have these alternative technologies, because we can't rely on mainstream platforms, and we can't even try to make them better because they are not on board with inclusion anymore. 

The book defines two ways of looking at the design of trans tech: technological inclusionism, or the process of marginalized groups attempting to fit into and improve existing tech, and technological separatism, or tech designed outside of the mainstream for trans communities, specifically. 

There are so many cases where people are creating these trans technologies, taking this separatist approach where they're creating it specifically for a marginalized group, but then it connects to a mainstream platform. For instance, I talked to a lot of people who are creating browser extensions. For example, [extensions] that would take any instance of your dead name that you're not using anymore and you don't want to see, and it would change it in the HTML code in a browser, so you would only see your current name. That's something that's fitting in with, usually, Chrome, which is a very mainstream platform. It's a way that we can adjust something like Google Chrome to be more inclusive, but at the same time it's its own technology that's really just designed for this group. 

Credit: C.D. Rom / Kat Brewster / MIT Press

One premise of this book is that trans-exclusionism is baked into many mainstream platforms — but that is because of human intervention, not the natural outcome of technological progress. Can you explain more?

Toward the end of the book, I quote from Stone's [The War of Desire and Technology at the Close of the Mechanical Age] where she said it's natural to be trans in digital spaces. She was writing this in the 1990s and talking about how digital spaces were often so much more comfortable for trans people or for people who are exploring their identity in different ways.

[Editor's note: The full quote is "Transness is natural online, while physical spaces can feel unnatural. Technology is like water to us — we need it to survive; we can breathe here."]

I don't think that Mark Zuckerberg would really think about [his technology] like that at all. Zuckerberg famously said that each person only has one identity, and so that is why Facebook wants you to use your real name and why you shouldn't have multiple accounts. All of that stems from his fundamental belief that each person only has the one identity. These types of values are embedded in and baked into these mainstream platforms because of someone like Zuckerberg — who has a relatively simple identity, who doesn't experience intersectionality in the way that a lot of people who are using his platforms do. 

Coming from his own perspective, he has created this giant company that billions of people across the world are using that has this fundamentally flawed assumption. 

They want to position it as tech is neutral. Those of us who think about technology in a more critical way definitely consider tech not to be neutral. It's really influenced by the people who are creating it and the values that are embedded.

Now, the industry's favored phrase is "tech for good," or, most common these days, "AI for good." I feel like this has a completely different meaning for designers of trans technologies, versus huge tech giants like OpenAI. 

Before AI, we had 'data science for good.' I've done work in that space, too. And the challenge here is that, even if your intention is to do good with this emerging technology, a lot of times people are just sitting at their computer, or with a small group of also very highly educated, very technical people, and deciding what 'good' means, what the problems that need to be solved are. One of the big things that I'm arguing in the book is that it really needs to start more with communities.  

It appears to me then that Big Tech's leaders are taking a very narrow view of what technology means and how it can serve people. How does that fit into other changes in the industry, like Musk's reimagining of the federal government as a tech startup via DOGE?

Musk has always taken a very individualist approach. 'What is my good idea?' "What do I want to see with this technology?' He wants a rocket to go into space, so that's what he's going to do. It's the opposite of taking a community- based or needs-based approach, which I argue is so important. He would never go out and try to see what people in the U.S. actually want and need. He's really just interested in two things: What he wants, and what's going to make money — or "efficiency." 

We've seen what happened to Twitter when he turned it into X. He made it very, very efficient by firing pretty much their whole content moderation staff, who were trying to make it a more safe and positive platform for a lot of people. A lot of marginalized groups have gone elsewhere. And so, if we take that as a metaphor for what's going on in the U.S. more broadly right now, I don't think it's going to have very good outcomes.

Fundamentally, do you believe that the creation of trans technology can be a form of resistance as the state directly attacks trans communities?

Trans technology is huge for being able to resist what's going on politically. Think about the language of the executive order that said there's only two genders. They're trying to impose that across all of the federal government and anyone who's funded by the federal government. That covers a wide range of organizations and technological systems in the U.S. But what they can't touch is people's own identities and the language that people are using to think about themselves, to think about their own genders and the people around them. That's something that nobody can take away.

As long as we're building technologies outside of mainstream systems, [the U.S. government] also can't touch that. 

People are frustrated and scared and everything is so chaotic. But there is a really optimistic side of me that sees that all of these people's anger and frustration is going to lead to really incredible outcomes that can actually help their communities. 

"Trans Technologies" was a collaborative project, with additional support from researchers Kai Nham, Hibby Thach, Aloe DeGuia, Samuel Mayworm, Denny Starks, Kat Brewster, F. Ria Khan, and Mel Monier. The book is available on February 25, 2025. 

The National Park Service has removed all mentions of the words "transgender" and "queer" from its web page dedicated to the Stonewall National Monument, a site that marks a landmark moment for LGBTQ rights quite literally led by transgender and gender non-conforming people.

The site's online hub for the New York visitor centre and park honouring the 1969 Stonewall Uprising, a turning point for LGBTQ activism and civil rights in America, now only makes reference to "LGB civil rights," omitting the T and Q representing transgender and queer people in the acronym.

The changes come after anti-LGBTQ executive orders signed by President Donald Trump upon his inauguration, one stating that the federal government now only recognises two sexes, male and female, which medical and legal experts have criticised for biological inaccuracy and ignorance of sexual and gender diversity, and erasure of transgender, nonbinary, and intersex people in America. The Trump administration has been systematically erasing LGBTQ mentions and content from the White House website and federal agency websites.

Using the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine, Mashable can see the NPS' Stonewall National Monument site has been updated within the last two days.

Here's what it used to look like on Feb. 12:

Credit: Mashable screenshot: National Park Service

And here's what it looks like after Feb. 13:

Credit: Mashable screenshot: National Park Service

The removal of mentions of transgender and queer people from the NPS' Stonewall National Monument website marks a dark, infuriating, unjust day for LGBTQ rights and representation in America. It's a cruel, calculated move that quite literally erases transgender and queer people from a site dedicated to a historical moment of resistance led by trans people of colour and genderfluid people including Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera.

"This blatant act of erasure not only distorts the truth of our history, but it also dishonors the immense contributions of transgender individuals — especially transgender women of color — who were at the forefront of the Stonewall Riots and the broader fight for LGBTQ+ rights," said organisers at NYC non-profit Stonewall Inn Gives Back Initiative and the Stonewall Inn (which is physically part of the National Monument) in a statement.

"This decision to erase the word ‘transgender’ is a deliberate attempt to erase our history and marginalize the very people who paved the way for many victories we have achieved as a community. It is a direct attack on transgender people, especially transgender women of color, who continue to face violence, discrimination, and erasure at every turn."

GLAAD also published a statement, describing the decision as "yet another example of the Trump administration’s blatant attempts to discriminate against and erase the legacies of transgender and queer Americans."

"The Stonewall Uprising – a monumental moment in the fight for LGBTQ rights – would not have happened without the leadership of transgender and gender non-conforming people," the statement continued. "The tireless work of Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, and countless other trans women of color paved the way and continue to inspire us. You can try to erase our history, but we will never forget those who came before us and we will continue to fight for all those who will come after us.”

New York Governor Kathy Hochul took to Twitter to call the move "cruel and pettty."

This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed.

"Transgender people play a critical role in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights — and New York will never allow their contributions to be erased," she wrote.

Clean Slate's Laverne Cox and George Wallace describe their experiences working on the show, what the show hopefully means for the LGBTQ+ community, and which music icons they would invite to the Last Supper of Soul.

Clean Slate premieres on Prime Video on Feb. 6.

"There is a specific type of alienation that comes with using an app that was not made with you or your community in mind, and most dating apps have initially been created with straight people in mind."

It's a truth uncomfortably acknowledged that every dating app in possession of a database of potential daters must be primarily in want of straight people. The quote above is one of the many insights into the modern dating landscape covered by Mashable's own features editor Rachel Thompson, in her second book The Love Fix, out now via Square Peg, following her debut, Rough. And we've got an excerpt on this complex, undeniably prevalent topic for you below.

Now, full disclosure, I'm biased — that much is obvious. I've been lucky enough to edit and read Rachel's (it feels weird to call you Thompson, I won't do it) brilliant work for years, covering every angle, trend, and buzzword of sex, dating, and relationships in contemporary life — before the rest of us really know what's happening right in front of us. But The Love Fix is a deeper dive than ever into dating app fatigue, and a truly hopeful means to understand how we can reconnect with authenticity and intimacy in a world increasingly disengaged and automated.

Rachel's thorough analysis of how orientation affects the app experience, how dating apps are not designed with queer people at the forefront, and that "our social scripts for dating are also designed for straight couples," is just one of the important threads she pulls. 

The Love Fix delves into questions of dating app culture and design, what "limerence" is and how to deal with it, the trickiness of DTR (defining the relationship), how to reframe rejection, why ghosting hurts, the increased use of therapy speak in dating, the online attention economy (and how to take a break from it), getting over someone you never dated, how your attachment style impacts sex and relationships, breaking up in the online age and post-breakup etiquette, and the absence of commitment amid so much choice — amid so many other questions.

Really, it's for those with a book-long answer to the question: "How's your love life?"

So, we've got a sneak peek for you, an excerpt from The Love Fix about the lack of queer representation in dating apps beyond those specifically labelled as appealing to LGBTQ daters. Get into it.

The Love Fix by Rachel Thompson

From Chapter 4: Just My Type

How does orientation affect the app experience? 

The Pew Research Center found that lesbian, gay and bisexual adults are around twice as likely as straight adults to have used a dating app or site, but now that so much of dating has moved online, it’s important to examine how we make online dating inclusive. There is a specific type of alienation that comes with using an app that was not made with you or your community in mind, and most dating apps have initially been created with straight people in mind. 

"Nothing in this world is made for marginalised people," says Melissa A. Fabello PhD, a US-based sex and relationships educator. ‘"As a queer woman, I talk to so many other queer women that are like “the apps suck!” And it’s like, yeah, because the apps weren’t made for us, so even though we can use them, they weren’t made for us, and that is impactful."

This feeling that the apps are not designed with queer people in mind is echoed by scholars too. "Structures of power are visible also in the social and cultural genealogy of dating apps," writes Dr Carolina Bandinelli. "Most apps (dating and nondating) were funded in Silicon Valley, in a socio-economic environment marked by a culture that, despite the promotional claims of democracy, is in fact based on strict mechanisms of inclusion and exclusion which benefit certain categories, mostly white middle-class males, while marginalising others, notably women and ethnic minorities." 

Queer dating apps, which have been conceived and built by queer people, are a response to oppression, says Fabello. "The queer dating apps only exist because other dating apps are not useful, particularly to queer people, so we create our own," she says. "Even if you’re trying to create something that’s less oppressive, you’re doing it in response to oppression, oppression takes up a lot of space in our lives." 

The dynamics these platforms expect of us don’t always work, as on top of that our social scripts for dating are also designed for straight couples. As Lucy says, "Women aren’t taught to flirt with other women, so even if someone feels attracted to another woman, they may not know how to express that." Our culture teaches straight women that men should make the first move, but doesn’t have an answer for what happens when both parties are women. In practice, this can mean that if both WLW women in a conversation expect the other person to make the first move, that move might not happen at all.

Journalist Siân Bradley wrote about the hurdle of learning to flirt after coming out as bisexual, saying, "I had had enough of secretly admiring women, nonbinary people, and AFAB people from a distance. Now I wanted to actually act on my attraction. But how?" Acting on your queer desire is scary, Bradley added, particularly when many WLW have absorbed heteronormative dating scripts. "When you’ve only been with cis men, like I had, dating women feels like a whole other ball game: one where you don’t know the rules, let alone who’s playing or whether you’re allowed on the pitch." Not only is it difficult to know how to flirt, there’s also a hypervigilance that comes with hitting on queer women and femmes because when queer women aren’t being treated by straight women as experimentation fodder or a means to attract the male gaze they’re contending with the fetishisation of WLW in mainstream culture. 

"We are seen as something for men’s pleasure only, and not our own entity," says Lucy. "It feels shameful sometimes admitting I’m a lesbian to men and seeing the turned-on look in their eyes." They’re always aware that the response they get might be more than a simple rejection. "We’re hyper vigilant about who we can hit on and when," says Riley. "A lot of us have really extreme emotional scarring and we really don’t trust a lot of questioning women." 

Once the flirting stage has been overcome, there’s also the question of how to behave within that relationship. "Before I started dating women I found it a struggle to imagine how I would behave when it was just me and another woman in a romantic relationship," says Cassie, a 27-year-old bisexual woman who, for years, only dated men. "This stopped me pursuing women for the longest time. I think this was because heterosexuality was all I knew. It was shown to us on the TV, in books, in films, on the street. I guess you could say I’m a visual learner, and with no queer representation in sight, I was lost!"

Compulsory heterosexuality  –  a term coined by feminist scholar Adrienne Rich in 1980 – is society’s imposition of heterosexuality as the norm, the false assumption that relationships are between men and women only. Cassie feels there is toxic masculinity at play with some queer cis women. "Sometimes we feel the need to behave in a certain way in order to fit the roles we’ve been shown our entire lives," she says. "At times it feels like even the people around me, who are supposedly allies, are only happy with me dating a woman as long as one of us is “the woman” and one of us is “the man”."

Extracted from 'The Love Fix' by Rachel Thompson, out now via Square Peg for £18.99.

Lady Gaga used her Best Pop Duo acceptance speech at the 2025 Grammys to lend her voice to the trans community.

"Trans people are not invisible," says Lady Gaga in the clip above, standing on stage alongisde her fellow "Die With a Smile" winner Bruno Mars. "Trans people deserve love, the queer community deserves to be lifted up. Music is love. Thank you."

Lady Gaga's comments come in the wake of President Donald Trump passing an executive order stating that the U.S. government now only recognises two sexes —the wording of which may have inadvertently made everyone in the country female.

Mark Zuckerberg stood up in the Senate hearing room on Capitol Hill, turned around, and began to speak. It was hard to hear him over the camera clicks. I felt the room lift behind me as bereaved parents held up photos of their dead kids, lost to suicide or exploitation following exposure to Zuckerberg's online platforms. I realized I was standing by the time I could make out any of his words. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through,” he said. 

That was January 31, 2024 and less than a year later, Zuckerberg announced Meta would be abandoning fact-checkers and implementing similar policies to Elon Musk's X. 

This deeply craven and dangerous reversal, ostensibly to reduce “censorship” from Meta platforms, will make Instagram, Facebook, and WhatsApp even more unsafe for LGBTQ+ users. That’s why, after 13 years on Instagram, amassing 80,000 followers, and having monetarily benefited from being an influencer, I am finally leaving Instagram.  

I initially joined Instagram because it was what all of my friends were doing. As a young dancer featured on television shows, it was a place to build and maintain connections and community. It was also a business, a place where I could earn money for more dance training and raise awareness about causes and issues I cared deeply about. But over time, due to policy and content moderation decisions made — or not made — by Meta, it went from something fun and engaging to something that fueled anxiety, took over my childhood, and ultimately caused harm to me and people I love.

At the end of the day, social media is a product of its environment, and the environment is getting worse. The rise in hate speech on social media has become a significant concern in recent years. Meta's decision to end its fact-checking program and ease content moderation will only add to the increase in harmful behaviors, including harassment and hate speech, especially if Zuckerberg implements something similar to X’s community notes. Giving anyone with a valid phone number and six months of a clean record on the platform the status of “approved moderator,” a status kept anonymous, is not enough to keep harmful disinformation and hate speech from spreading.

That doesn’t mean members of the LGBTQ+ community should lose hope entirely. There are people fighting to hold technology companies accountable and to make online spaces better. It’s important that young LGBTQ+ people know that there are people, like my colleagues at Heat Initiative, fighting for Big Tech to clean up their act, so that isolated members of the LGBTQ+ community aren’t forced to turn to dangerous online experiences when their in-person community fails them. The unfortunate reality is that, right now, the LGBTQ+ community is harmed disproportionally more on these platforms than their peers. Zuckerberg’s actions will only accelerate the risks that young LGBTQ+ people face on Meta’s platforms.

Lennon Torres protesting an an Apple store for the Heat Initiative. Credit: Photo by Johnny Makes

Ironically, Meta’s new policies seem likely to hurt their business too. In his announcement, Zuckerberg parroted language that has been used by Musk to justify the elimination of safety measures on X, but those decisions have proven to be terrible for X’s business. When Twitter became X and it immediately shifted away from a place people could connect and keep up to date to a cesspool of illegal and harmful content, users and advertisers fled. Zuckerberg should take note, especially since he said himself that it’s likely we will see a similar uptick in harmful content on Meta’s platforms.

But no one in the LGBTQ+ community should be under the illusion that social media or the newest technology will inherently increase connection or belonging. At least not without thorough protections. After I saw that even Apple CEO Tim Cook, a so-called LGBTQ+ advocate, donated $1 million dollars to the Trump Inauguration and sat directly behind the now president as he took the presidential oath, I was reminded again that technology CEOs are focused only on protecting their power. That unsettling realization and Zuckerberg’s announcement left me asking myself if I will keep using these platforms. Our LGBTQ+ community must come to terms with the fact that tech tycoons like Zuckerberg, Musk and Cook don’t have our best interests at heart. Ever. 

Ultimately, we have to reckon with the fact that Meta’s new policies are just the latest in a long line of decisions that have put LGBTQ+ users at risk on their platforms. To know they have a ton of hate speech on their platforms, are building algorithms meant to addict young users to their products for life, and are actively moving to ensure less content safety, I can't sit idly by and use their platforms. Zuckerberg is taking the company in a fundamentally dangerous direction. 

It is so clear to me that the young and wild toxic relationship of my youth was not with a romantic partner or friend, but with Mark Zuckerberg and the products he has built to imprison and profit off of our attention. And like many exes do, he sticks around uninvited — and I am certainly done giving him a pass. 

Join me. It’s time to delete your Instagram. 

Lennon Torres is an LGBTQ+ advocate who grew up in the public eye, gaining national recognition as a young dancer on television shows. With a deep passion for storytelling, advocacy, and politics, Lennon now works to center the lived experience of herself and others as she crafts her professional career in online child safety at Heat Initiative, aiming to bridge the gap between online safety and LGBTQ+ representation through intentionally inclusive strategies. Lennon’s LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/lennon-torres-325b791b4/

Keen-eyed individuals spotted another blow to LGBTQ protections under the U.S.'s new presidential administration.

First flagged by Media Matters for America journalist Ari Drennen, the official page for changing sexual (or gender) identification on government documents — overseen by the Social Security Administration — has been removed from public view. The page currently displays an access denied notice that reads "You are not authorized to access this page."

This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed.

Drennen and others online later confirmed the page was inaccessible to all users, including those with personal Social Security accounts logged into the website. The Social Security Administration's page on Gender Identity has also been hidden, prompting users with a 404 error. Some existing FAQs on the process — which allows citizens to change their gender identification to a binary or nonbinary ("X") status — are still accessible to the public at the time of reporting. The office's resources for LGBTQI communities are also still visible.

Under a Biden administration change from 2022, American citizens did not need to show medical or legal evidence to obtain a change in sexual identification, lauded as a major victory for LGBTQ communities nationwide. Before Trump's inauguration, advocates had warned that the new leadership would move quickly to repeal such provisions, and recommended individuals update their official documents, including social security cards, prior to Trump taking office.

Credit: Screenshot / U.S. Social Security Administration

Less than 24 hours after Trump was sworn in, the new president removed all LGBTQ-related pages from the White House website, including information published by the Biden administration. Searches for "sexual identification" and "gender" on the official White House page only return a link to Trump's recent executive order on what he has called "gender ideology extremism."

Queries for pages with the terms "lesbian," "gay," "bisexual," and "transgender" populate similarly sparse results that only reference new Trump edicts. In the aforementioned executive order, President Trump declared that the United States would only recognize two biological genders, based on an ironically confusing definition of "gender at time of conception." That executive order effectively erases trans and gender nonconforming individuals who had legally changed their sexual identification on official documents. The executive order had no guidance in regards to intersex individuals or other biologically nonbinary identities, which apply to millions of Americans.

On his first day in office, President Donald Trump issued executive orders that transgender rights activists described as "hateful."

Invoking biological definitions of sex that are contested, one order effectively argues that "trans-ness is not real," and directs federal agencies to change their policies accordingly, said Chase Strangio, co-director of the ACLU’s LGBTQ & HIV Project, in a media briefing Tuesday.

He noted that the State Department, which issues passports, had already removed existing directions for how to update one's sex designation on a passport. During the Biden administration, the department began issuing passports with an X gender marker, and did not require applicants to submit medical certification to change their gender marker on the document. (A Trump administration spokesperson told The Washington Blade that current passports with an X marker would not be invalidated.)

Strangio said other real world implications of the order would become clear once federal agencies enacted new policies. Advocates are concerned that the order could be fear-reaching, and potentially devastating, affecting access to health care, protection from discrimination, and safety in school environments, among other things.

Additionally, Trump rescinded two executive orders, both signed by President Biden, that lifted the ban on transgender service members, and attempted to address discrimination against lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and intersex individuals.

"We see these executive orders for what they are—an attempt by hateful extremists to make it impossible for us to participate in public life," Rodrigo Heng-Lehtinen, executive director of Advocates for Trans Equality, said in a statement.

Heng-Lehtinen said that many of Trump's executive orders cannot go into effect immediately, and that the organization would closely monitor their implementation.

"We will use every resource at our disposal, from Capitol Hill to the courts, to hold the line against these attacks," Heng-Lehtinen said.

The ACLU and Lambda Legal also plan to mount legal challenges to Trump administration policies that implement the orders.

For transgender people worried about what happens next, Advocates for Trans Equality and GLAAD shared with Mashable a list of resources they can consult:

Legal Guides

• Trans Legal Survival Guide, published by Advocates for Trans Equality. This 17-page report provides guidance on how to conduct a "legal checkup" for readers. Though it is not legal advice, it offers tips on planning for health care decisions, updating legal identification and documentation, and finding legal help.

• Protecting Your LGBTQ+ Marriage and Family, published by COLAGE, Family Equality, GLAD Law, Movement Advancement Project, and the National Center for Lesbian Rights, this resource guide provides information about existing legal protections for LGBTQ+ families.

• Keeping LGBTQ Families Safe: Recommendations and Best Practices, published by GLAAD. These "commonsense" tips are aimed at helping LGBTQ families and people can ensure that their "identities, families, and wishes are legally clear and respected."

Crisis Lines

• Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860

• National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: 988

• Trevor Project: 866-488-7386

• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

U.S. President Donald Trump wasted no time in signing a slew of executive orders after his inauguration on Monday, delaying the TikTok ban, initiating a withdrawal from the Paris climate agreement, and establishing the Elon Musk-led Department of Government Efficiency ("DOGE").

Trump may have also technically made everyone in the U.S. a woman.

Entitled "Defending Women from Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government," Trump's executive order concerning gender identity states that the U.S. government only recognises two sexes, male and female. It also provides explicit definitions of each which are to be applied to all interpretations of law.

"'Sex' shall refer to an individual’s immutable biological classification as either male or female," Trump's executive order declares. "'Female' means a person belonging, at conception, to the sex that produces the large reproductive cell. 'Male' means a person belonging, at conception, to the sex that produces the small reproductive cell."

Though Trump's goal to impose a "binary nature of sex" may seem clear, the specific wording, technicalities, and application of his executive order are far from it.

Conception is the point when sperm and egg join, otherwise known as fertilisation. Regardless of whether they have an XX, XY, or an alternate chromosome pattern, all human foetuses' sex organs are identical at conception in that they have none. Foetuses subsequently develop in the same manner as each other regardless of their chromosomes until approximately six to seven weeks after conception, at which point the Y chromosome typically expresses itself by inducing the development of testes. If a Y chromosome does not do this, the foetus will continue to develop female genitalia.

Basically, the early, default configuration of a human foetus is female. If we were to assign a sex at conception as per Trump's executive order, all of them would be female.

Trump's executive order on sex ignores intersex people

It is possible that Trump's executive order intended to impose reliance on chromosomes rather than physical sexual organs. Most males have XY chromosomes while most females have XX, and these are present at conception. However, Trump's executive order makes no mention of chromosomes, and further does not address how intersex people might be classified if this were the case. 

Intersex people are those whose chromosomes do not fall within the XX or XY binary, or whose sexual characteristics vary from what is typical. It's estimated that approximately 1.7 percent of people are intersex, many of whom may not discover this until later in life.

"The Trump administration purports to talk about 'biological realities' but demonstrates that they lack any understanding of the relevant science," intersex advocacy group interACT said in response to the executive order. 

"A person with ovotestes (both ovarian and testicular tissue) may produce both sperm and ova. Would the Executive Order grant them both 'male' and 'female' category membership? On the other hand, a person born without gonads (gonadal agenesis), or with gonadal tissue that does not differentiate into functioning testes or ovaries (gonadal dysgenesis), may be considered neither male nor female if these nonsensical definitions are applied."

Even when a person does have XX or XY chromosomes, they aren't always expressed in the typical way. For example, people with Swyer syndrome have female reproductive structures while also having XY chromosomes. Similarly, people with Complete Androgen Insensitivity have external female sex characteristics, XY chromosomes, and internal male sex organs. Strict adherence to chromosomes would categorise these people as male, while looking to external appearances would have them assigned female.

It remains unclear how circumstances concerning intersex people will play out under Trump's binary directive. interACT has stated that legal challenges to Trump's executive order are already being prepared.

The U.S.' 'outdated definition' of sex causes active harm

Credit: Roberto Machado Noa / LightRocket via Getty Images

An alternate possibility is that Trump intends for sex to be determined according to external characteristics apparent at birth, with no reference to a person's chromosome makeup. However, this neglects the reality that some people's external sex characteristics cannot be clearly categorised as male or female. Further, artificially forcing them into this binary can cause significant harm.

A 2019 study found that the U.S.' treatment of intersex people fails to meet international standards of human rights due to its enforcement of an "outdated definition of 'sex'." Intersex babies in the U.S. are generally assigned either male or female at birth, and are sometimes operated upon to fit more closely with characteristics typical of their allocated sex. 

Human Rights Watch has labelled such procedures "medically unnecessary," noting that they can inflict permanent harm such as incontinence, sterilisation, and psychological trauma. This can also result in a child being assigned a gender that they do not identify with, with there being some overlap between intersex and transgender communities.

Sadly, Trump's executive order stubbornly attempts to reinforce a binary definition of sex. The president further directed that documents which are inconsistent with his order be rescinded, including Department of Education guidance for supporting LGBTIQ students, the White House Toolkit on Transgender Equality, and the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission’s Enforcement Guidance on Harassment in the Workplace.

"People outside of the binary genders have existed in cultures around the world for thousands of years, including among many Indigenous American communities," said Maria Sjödin, executive director of LGBTIQ advocacy group Outright International. "No Presidential order can erase them — it will just make their lives more precarious…. Requiring people to carry identity documents that do not reflect their gender expression also exposes them to an increased risk of violence and restricts their freedom of movement."

Though Trump's executive order does technically declare that all humans are female, it's unlikely to be applied this way since this clearly wasn't the president's intent. Even so, that doesn't mean we can't take a moment to appreciate the absurdity of it all. This year, International Women's Day is for all of us.

Various pages about LGBTQ rights and lives in the U.S. have been wiped from the official White House site, LGBTQ media advocacy organization GLAAD has reported.

Whitehouse.gov received a makeover on Inauguration Day, and not only in looks. Information shared by the Biden administration has been deleted and replaced with profiles on Trump administration officials and his day one actions. The deleted information includes pages about the LGBTQ community. Various search terms, like "lesbian," "gay," and "bisexual," only contain a single result: a rollback of Biden-era executive orders, including "Advancing Equality for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, and Intersex Individuals" from 2022.

"Transgender" turns up two results, the aforementioned and Trump's new executive order stating, among other things, that there are only two genders.

"LGBTQ" turns up no results. Some pages removed, according to GLAAD and confirmed by Mashable, include:

• the White House's equity report (current 404 page)

• fact sheet on expanding HIV medication access (current 404 page)

• the Department of State's LGBTQ Rights page (current 404 page)

• the Department of Labor's page on LGBTQ policy (current 404 page)

Other removed pages Mashable found include a fact sheet on the accomplishments of LGBTQ Americans (current 404 page) and a proclamation on Pride Month 2024 (current 404 page).

This move aligns with actions Trump promised to do during his inaugural speech, including removing diversity programs and creating an official policy that there are only two genders.

"President Trump claims to be a strong proponent of freedom of speech, yet he is clearly committed to censorship of any information containing or related to LGBTQ Americans and issues that we face," GLAAD's president and CEO Sarah Kate Ellis said in a statement. Ellis refers to Trump stating yesterday that he will "bring back" free speech.

"This action proves the Trump administration's goal of making it as difficult as possible for LGBTQ Americans to find federal resources or otherwise see ourselves reflected under his presidency," she continued. "Sadly for him, our community is more visible than ever; and this pathetic attempt to diminish and remove us will again prove unsuccessful."

The bisexual community has an inside joke describing what it's like to date as a bi person: People think it means double the options and double the fun, but it just means double the rejection.

You have to be able to laugh at self-deprecating jokes like this if you're a member of the Lonely Hearts Club, regardless of whether you're diving into the straight or gay dating scene. But bisexual people do face extra roadblocks in the dating world.

Bisexual people make up the majority of the LGBTQ community, according to 2024 data from Gallup, but it's also one of the least-acknowledged letters in the acronym. What makes the bisexual dating landscape — especially the online one — so tricky to maneuver? Before we get into the best dating apps for bisexuals, let's tackle this question.

Bisexuality is hypersexualized on dating apps

Something bisexual people, particularly women, are familiar with is potential matches hypersexualizing their LGBTQ status. Bisexual people are more vulnerable to intimate partner violence than straight and gay people for several reasons, including this stereotype that bi folks are more sexual than others.

On a dating app level, bisexual people may be susceptible to upsetting messages. Megan, a 23-year-old woman from Virginia, told Mashable via Facebook that she couldn't even count the number of ignorant (and gross) messages she'd received from men about writing "bi" in her Tinder bio. "There were times when they would be like, 'Oh, you never seemed gay in high school' or whatever, because gay is obviously a personality trait," she said. "Like my sexuality wasn't a real thing, or it was just a fetish to these people."

Bisexual people also encounter couples looking for their "unicorn," or third for a threesome (more on "unicorn hunters" below). Threesomes aren't wrong, but let's not assume that every bi person is dreaming of sleeping with you and your partner. You'd think the user base on queer dating apps would be more enlightened than on comparatively general apps, but that's not always the case.

Queer dating apps aren't always inviting, either

Does "gold star lesbian" sound familiar to you? It refers to lesbians who have never slept with a man, and some may even proclaim they're looking for "gold stars only" on their dating app profile. If you're a bisexual woman who sleeps with men, that may hurt to see.

Another issue bisexual people may face on explicitly LGBTQ dating apps is feeling invisible when they're deemed too "straight passing" (aka looking straight). This kind of invalidation contributes to many bisexual folks' struggles of not feeling queer enough.

Why you might still want to put "bi" in your dating app bio

Adding those two simple letters to your bio may draw unwanted attention, but in the long run, it also acts as an asshole filter to weed out people who try to put sexual orientation into a box.

Just think about it: Would you want your partner to believe bisexuality is a pit stop on the road to being a "full-blown gay"? Of course not. Another old stereotype is that bisexuality means you want to have sex with anything that moves. The easiest way to ensure that you won't be left heartbroken over someone rejecting or questioning your sexuality is to let them know how you identify from the jump. You deserve the very best, which means only those people who accept you as you are.

With all of this in mind, we wanted to review the best dating apps for bisexual people. We can't promise you'll never have a bad experience on these (indeed, mishaps are all but guaranteed when you brave dating apps), but we believe these particular apps give bisexual men, women, and non-binary folks the very best shot at finding a compatible partner.

Instagram recently blocked teen users from viewing the results for numerous LGBTQ+ terms by accident, according to a spokesperson for Meta, the platform's parent company.

The restrictions were reported by User Mag, which found that teen users searching for content related to dozens of hashtags including #lesbian, #bisexual, #gay, #trans, #queer, #nonbinary, #Tgirlsarebeautiful, and #lesbianpride were instead shown a blank page with a message directing them to the platform's sensitive content policy.

That policy prohibits content "that impedes our ability to foster a safe community," and includes material that may be "sexually explicit or suggestive."

"These search terms and hashtags were mistakenly restricted — an error that has now been fixed," a Meta spokesperson told Mashable. "It's important to us that all communities feel safe and welcome on Meta apps, and we do not consider LGBTQ+ terms to be sensitive under our policies."

Meta attributed the issue to technology that helps limit user exposure to sensitive content mistakenly misclassifying several LGBTQ+ terms, making them temporarily restricted.

Instagram's new teen accounts limit sensitive content by default. Teens between the ages of 13 and 15 need parental permission to change the setting.

Mashable previously reported on claims made by adult LGBTQ creators that Instagram has shadowbanned their content. The platform has tried to address general concerns regarding "non-recommendable" content, with mixed reviews from affected creators.

Meta told Mashable that LGBTQ content isn't considered sensitive and is eligible for recommendation, provided the content doesn't violate any other platform policies.

LGBTQ youth advocates criticized Instagram for the search restrictions.

"For many LGBTQ people, especially youth, platforms like Instagram are crucial for self-discovery, community building, and accessing supportive information," Leanna Garfield, social media safety program manager at GLAAD, told User Mag. "By limiting access to LGBTQ content, Instagram may be inadvertently contributing to the isolation and marginalization of LGBTQ users."

Online dating as a gay man has its share of horror stories. It's also a rite of passage dating back to the Craigslist m4m era. It's a high-risk, high-reward activity.

For members of the LGBTQ+ community, online dating presents a unique set of challenges, which can sour the experience. Ghosting and catfishing are still common, but you might also find people asking unnecessary questions about your past, straight guys who shouldn't be in your feed, and even some not-so-subtle fetishization. Not exactly the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling we're all after, right?

Yet, despite the BS, the best gay dating apps have helped millions of men make meaningful connections.

According to the Pew Research Center, about one-quarter of LGBTQ+ adults say they met their match through online dating. The problem? Not all dating apps are created equal, especially for LGBTQ+ users.

What is the best gay dating app right now?

We can't talk about the gay dating scene in the 21st century without talking about Grindr, the undisputed king of gay dating mobile apps. However, there are a lot of other options, especially if you want to make a genuine connection.

"Grindr is a tried and true app that many queer men gravitate toward to find partners or for relationships that require lesser commitment, so it’s easy to point to it as the #1 app," Michelle Herzog, LMFT, AASECT-certified sex therapist, tells Mashable. "However, like Tinder, it’s gained a reputation as a hookup app — but that doesn’t mean there still aren’t men looking for long-term commitments, either." Lately, Grindr users have been complaining about a buggier app experience and free features going behind paywalls. So, even if you don't quit Grindr for good, it might be time to test other gay dating apps.

The most popular dating apps have a lot to offer, and that's where you'll find the most queer users. Keeping Tinder on the back burner isn't just a straight people thing (especially for guys in less-populated areas where apps like Scruff offer slim pickings). Plus, mainstream apps deserve credit for trying to create a more inclusive atmosphere. OkCupid gets kudos for embracing change and making inclusivity a core part of its compatibility scoring. You can also try niche gay dating sites if you tend to like a certain type of man, but in general, the more popular apps offer the greatest chance of success — it's a numbers game.

Whether you're looking for something serious, a hookup, something that stays strictly online, or an altogether different definition of connection, there's an ideal queer dating app out there for you. So, here's a breakdown of the best dating apps for gay men to help you find your perfect match.

Daniel Craig and Drew Starkey give us a behind-the-scenes look at how Luca Guadagnino approached filming the ayahuasca scene in Queer. They also give an in depth look at the relationship between the two lead characters in the film.

Queer opens November 27th in NY & LA, in theaters everywhere December 13.

Online dating as a gay man has its share of horror stories. It's also a rite of passage dating back to the Craigslist m4m era. It's a high-risk, high-reward activity.

For members of the LGBTQ+ community, online dating presents a unique set of challenges, which can sour the experience. Ghosting and catfishing are still common, but you might also find people asking unnecessary questions about your past, straight guys who shouldn't be in your feed, and even some not-so-subtle fetishization. Not exactly the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling we're all after, right?

Yet, despite the BS, the best gay dating apps have helped millions of men make meaningful connections.

According to the Pew Research Center, about one-quarter of LGBTQ+ adults say they met their match through online dating. The problem? Not all dating apps are created equal, especially for LGBTQ+ users.

What is the best gay dating app right now?

We can't talk about the gay dating scene in the 21st century without talking about Grindr, the undisputed king of gay dating mobile apps. However, there are a lot of other options, especially if you want to make a genuine connection.

"Grindr is a tried and true app that many queer men gravitate toward to find partners or for relationships that require lesser commitment, so it’s easy to point to it as the #1 app," Michelle Herzog, LMFT, AASECT-certified sex therapist, tells Mashable. "However, like Tinder, it’s gained a reputation as a hookup app — but that doesn’t mean there still aren’t men looking for long-term commitments, either." Lately, Grindr users have been complaining about a buggier app experience and free features going behind paywalls. So, even if you don't quit Grindr for good, it might be time to test other gay dating apps.

The most popular dating apps have a lot to offer, and that's where you'll find the most queer users. Keeping Tinder on the back burner isn't just a straight people thing (especially for guys in less-populated areas where apps like Scruff offer slim pickings). Plus, mainstream apps deserve credit for trying to create a more inclusive atmosphere. OkCupid gets kudos for embracing change and making inclusivity a core part of its compatibility scoring. You can also try niche gay dating sites if you tend to like a certain type of man, but in general, the more popular apps offer the greatest chance of success — it's a numbers game.

Whether you're looking for something serious, a hookup, something that stays strictly online, or an altogether different definition of connection, there's an ideal queer dating app out there for you. So, here's a breakdown of the best dating apps for gay men to help you find your perfect match.

Online dating as a lesbian can be a joyous experience. Unfortunately, it can also involve having your space invaded by straight people or seeing your ex-girlfriends (and your ex-girlfriends' ex-girlfriends) show up in your feed over and over.

Back in 2020, the heteronormative weirdness on the apps got so alienating that many lesbians turned to TikTok as a means of meeting other single lesbians (and it worked). Unfortunately, it's just not realistic to expect a social media app to work like a dating app for everyone. Lesbians who have exhausted their local romantic options are still going to want to meet new women in time for cuffing season.

And while it's still all too common to match with a woman just to be hit with the classic, "My boyfriend and I are looking for a threesome," dating apps have been making strides against unicorn hunting. Our favorite apps now give queer women an actually safe space to meet and date other women and non-binary folks.

So, what are the best dating apps for lesbians? We tested the most popular dating sites and apps and got some insight from our Dating & Relationships writers to find out.

How to find the best dating apps for lesbians

Niche lesbian dating apps aren't your only option for finding love in 2024. Credit: Stacey Zhu / Mashable

Mainstream dating apps attract the most users — including queer users. That means niche lesbian dating apps aren't your only options for finding love. These days, Hinge, Bumble, OkCupid, and even eharmony have filters to help you match with people of the same gender (or any gender at all), as well as additional search filters that acknowledge the existence of non-traditional relationships. Especially if you don't live in a densely populated area, going for the more popular dating apps over lesbian dating sites can often lead to better results.

With that said, there is one dating app lesbian women should try. HER is an app by and for queer women, and it's grown to have a strong user base. According to their website, the app has more than 15 million registered users worldwide. The app also emphasizes finding community and making friends in addition to dating, giving you plenty of ways to find a connection with other queer women and non-binary users.

Check out our guide below for the full rundown of our recommendations and lesbian dating app reviews.

Online dating as a gay man has its share of horror stories. It's also a rite of passage dating back to the Craigslist m4m era. It's a high-risk, high-reward activity.

For members of the LGBTQ+ community, online dating presents a unique set of challenges, which can sour the experience. Ghosting and catfishing are still common, but you might also find people asking unnecessary questions about your past, straight guys who shouldn't be in your feed, and even some not-so-subtle fetishization. Not exactly the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling we're all after, right?

Yet, despite the BS, the best gay dating apps have helped millions of men make meaningful connections.

According to the Pew Research Center, about one-quarter of LGBTQ+ adults say they met their match through online dating. The problem? Not all dating apps are created equal, especially for LGBTQ+ users.

What is the best gay dating app right now?

We can't talk about the gay dating scene in the 21st century without talking about Grindr, the undisputed king of gay dating mobile apps. However, there are a lot of other options, especially if you want to make a genuine connection.

"Grindr is a tried and true app that many queer men gravitate toward to find partners or for relationships that require lesser commitment, so it’s easy to point to it as the #1 app," Michelle Herzog, LMFT, AASECT-certified sex therapist, tells Mashable. "However, like Tinder, it’s gained a reputation as a hookup app — but that doesn’t mean there still aren’t men looking for long-term commitments, either."

Other popular dating apps have a lot to offer, and that's where you'll find the most queer users. Keeping Tinder on the back burner isn't just a straight people thing (especially for guys in less-populated areas where apps like Scruff offer slim pickings). Plus, mainstream apps deserve credit for trying to create a more inclusive atmosphere. OkCupid gets kudos for embracing change and making inclusivity a core part of its compatibility scoring. You can also try niche gay dating sites if you tend to like a certain type of man, but in general, the more popular apps offer the greatest chance of success — it's a numbers game.

Whether you're looking for something serious, a hookup, something that stays strictly online, or an altogether different definition of connection, there's an ideal queer dating app out there for you. So, here's a breakdown of the best dating apps for gay men to help you find your perfect match.

Donning a stunning purple vintage 1995 Mugler suit for Spirit Day, Laverne Cox delivered one of the best monologues you'll see on late night TV on Thursday.

On a day that raises awareness about and campaigns against anti-LGBTQ bullying, the actor, podcaster, and activist presented an excellent segment on The Daily Show. Cox not only spoke to bullying in schools — pointing to The Trevor Project’s report on bullying and suicide risk among LGBTQ youth — she took aim at those supposed to be grown-ups.

"These days the bullying is also happening from people way more immature than teenagers: politicians," she said.

"With anti-trans messaging playing such a large role in our politics it’s no wonder we’re seeing so much anti-trans violence and suicide. And that’s something we do have hard data on. I didn’t pull that fact from the same place Republicans get their information from: www.straightoutoftheirass.com."

Cox demonstrated how Republicans consistently use dehumanising anti-trans language and misinformation in their election campaigns — notably, spending millions on anti-trans ads across the country — $65 million, in fact. "Seriously, $65 million on anti-trans ads?" Cox said. "Do you know how disappointing it is to finally have someone spend $65 million on me and it’s for this crap? I didn’t want hateful attack ads! I wanted a house in the hills with six walk-in closets!”"

She also pointed to the fact that over 515 anti-LGBTQ bills are currently in progress across U.S. states, including much-publicised bans on transgender student athletes. "These lawmakers claim the purpose of these bills is to protect kids, but the reality is anti-trans laws actually lead to more school bullying of trans and queer kids," said Cox. "And that is so disappointing to see, especially from governors like Ron DeSantis. The way that man rocks a pair of high heels you’d think he’d be an ally."

Cox's monologue is hilarious and serious, and must-watch TV — take 10 minutes for it above.

“We’re just trying to live our lives," she said. "We just want to be who we are and not experience stigma, violence, and discrimination for it — and most people understand this. But because that is such a simple and non-controversial truth Republicans have to flood the airwaves with made up-fear-mongering.”

"I thought 'WLW' meant 'winners love winning,'" said TikTok user @ihatebodhi. In a video with over a million views, @ihatebodhi said he was confused about why masculine lesbians started DMing him once he started putting #wlw in his Instagram captions.

What does WLW mean?

As @ihatebodhi learned, WLW means "women who love women" or "women loving women," not "winners love winning." It's an internet shorthand for folks to signal who they like, or find others like them.

As is often the case within the LGBTQ community, WLW may mean different things to different people. To one person, WLW may refer to strictly women. To others, it can mean non-men who are into non-men, explained Melissa Fabello, a relationship coach for politicized people and PhD in human sexuality studies.

"When we're talking about individuals' way of understanding themselves, not assuming that a label or an identity means the same thing to all people who use it, and letting people explain what the nuances are for them is really important," Fabello said.

WLW has connotations similar to sapphic, another umbrella term used to describe attraction to women and femmes. "All of these words...have, at the core of them, that I think is really powerful, is a love for women, femininity, experiences of womanhood," Fabello said.

"There is a deep reverence for women, femmes, people with experience with womanhood," she continued, the latter referring to transmasculine people who were socialized as women but don't identify as women anymore. 

Thus, Fabello said, WLW takes out the patriarchal understanding of lesbianism, which is a rejection of men. These terms center women, not men.

Where does WLW come from?

There isn't a definitive source on the origin of "WLW." Some sites say that WLW originated in the Black community during the Harlem Renaissance, a culturally significant period for Black people in the 1920s and 1930s. This appears to trace back to a 2010 paper by a then-student at the University of California, Irvine, called "Women-Loving Women: Queering Black Urban Space during the Harlem Renaissance."

The paper begins with, "During the Harlem Renaissance (1919–1939), 'woman-loving woman' was a term used solely by and for women within the black community. The term was used by Ruth Ellis to describe women who engaged in same-sex sexual relations." Ruth Ellis was a Black lesbian activist who lived in the twentieth century. The author, Sam C. Tenorio, cites a documentary about Ellis's life, Living With Pride: Ruth Ellis @ 100, to support these claims. Tenorio, now an assistant professor at Penn State University, told Mashable in an email they don't remember specifics as they wrote the paper nearly 15 years ago. While WLW was used in the Ruth Ellis documentary, Tenorio couldn't recall if it was given a thorough definition.

This paper has sparked a debate online over whether "WLW" is part of African-American Vernacular English (AAVE).

"I've never heard it [WLW] associated exclusively with the Black community, not the way that 'same-gender loving' is," Kaila Adia Story, associate professor of women's, gender, and sexuality studies at the University of Louisville, told Mashable. 

Same-gender loving, Story explained, is a term coined in the 1990s by activist Cleo Manago for Black LGBTQ people. Manago "felt like 'gay' and 'lesbian' and those terms were Eurocentric and whitewashed terms for identity," Story said. Also, within broader LGBTQ spaces, Black people often encounter instances of racism despite those spaces claiming to be liberal. 

"It makes sense to me that a term would be created and invented to represent those folk who disassociate themselves with queer communities at the same time that they are queer," Story said of same-gender loving. She compared it to Alice Walker's term womanist — which refers to feminists of color — as the feminist movement in the late twentieth century centered around white women. 

Another LGBTQ term with Black roots is stud, which means a Black masculine lesbian. Stud also came to prominence in the 1990s to differentiate the way a Black masculine lesbian is perceived in the world from how a white masculine lesbian is perceived. These terms cannot be separated from the context they are born from — "Black gay [men] and lesbians just encountering those incidents of racism and therefore wanting to disassociate from that," Story said.

"We don't know" whether WLW originated in the Black community at the time of the Harlem Renaissance, said Jessi Grieser, associate professor of linguistics at the University of Michigan, "but there's a lot of reasons to suspect that's the case." 

WLW could've been used as code to camouflage its real meaning; if you were straight, you could think it means women who platonically love other women or love femininity. But if you were in the community, you'd know what it meant. Camouflage is a part of both Black language and LGBTQ code, Grieser explained, to obscure the true meaning for people who aren't "in the know" — white and/or straight people. The Harlem Renaissance was also an era where prominent Black women like blues singers Bessie Smith and Gladys Bentley were known to be sexually active with other women.

"Did [WLW] originate in the Harlem Renaissance? Signs point to yes," Grieser said, "but we don't have any scholarly confirmation."

WLW is similar to the more clinical terms MSM (men who have sex with men) and WSW (women who have sex with women), which are used in scientific research to explain someone's behavior without labeling their sexuality. But WLW is also distinct; it's not about sex, it's about love.

Story can see WLW emerging from the Harlem Renaissance era of questioning gender binaries, or the 1970s lesbian separatist movement, or the 1990s era of "same-gender loving," but in her work, she hasn't come across it having the same Black roots as that term. 

Whether WLW emerged in the Harlem Renaissance or sometime later, many people now use it online to express their preferences.

WLW or lesbian?

Judging by Google search results, the interest in the meaning of WLW has spiked in recent years, especially since 2020. But just as the term's history is nebulous, so is the meaning. On TikTok, the #wlw hashtag may be used synonymously with #lesbian for some, but not for others. In the most basic definition, WLW encompasses all queer women and femmes — but ultimately, there isn't a cut-and-dry meaning. 

"When we're talking about something as complicated as sexuality, there just is no easy answer," Fabello said. Sexuality is a complex web of experiences, she continued, and language can't fully describe the human experience. 

So, use WLW how you want to use it — except for "winners love winning."

Grindr, the most well-known gay dating app, is reportedly testing an AI bot that is designed to act as a wingman for its users.

Grindr's AI wingman will be specifically tailored for the app's LGBTQ user base, the Wall Street Journal reported. Users will interact with the wingman like a chatbot. Currently, a small group of users is testing the feature, Grindr's CEO George Arison said in an interview with WSJ. The group will expand to 1,000 users by the end of 2024 and 10,000 in 2025. The plan is for the chatbot to be available to Grindr's 14 million users by 2027 at the latest, Arison told WSJ.

The wingman will apparently keep track of users' favorite matches and make suggestions ranging from long-term relationship candidates to date spots. Later on, the wingman may be able to make restaurant reservations and converse with other wingman bots so users have a "robust view" of each other by the time they meet in person, WSJ reported.

The Wall Street Journal listed some preliminary issues with this idea. For one, Grindr needs to ensure this won't be a privacy and safety risk in areas where it isn't safe to be outwardly gay. Furthermore, Grindr sold user location data through ad networks for years, and AI data could pose another privacy risk.

WSJ claims a solution will be an "empathetic AI technology" through AI model company Ex-human, which Grindr made a deal with last year. The model Ex-human creates will be trained on romantic conversation and made "more gay." It's unclear how these models will solve these potential privacy concerns. Grindr is also in a lawsuit in the UK about revealing users' HIV status.

Besides these possible issues, Grindr users are currently frustrated with the app due to growing product issues and paywalls. In a statement to Mashable earlier this month concerning this frustration, a Grindr spokesperson said, "Since a major investment in modernizing our chat platform earlier this year, we are aware that our users have experienced technical challenges on Grindr."

It remains to be seen, then, how the app's infrastructure will contend with the introduction of a chatbot, and also how Grindr users will react to it. When Bumble founder Whitney Wolfe Herd described a potential "AI dating concierge" in an interview in May, the reaction was overwhelmingly negative. Considering that Grindr is known for quick hookups — VICE described it as a "24/7 merry-go-round of sex in your immediate locale" in 2022 — users may not want an AI bot intervening with their carnival ride.

Mashable has reached out to Grindr for comment on the AI wingman.

Meta cannot target a user’s sexual orientation in its personalized ads — even if they are openly queer and make public statements about the subject, the European Union’s highest court ruled Friday.

The case was brought from longtime Meta antagonist Max Schrems, as Wired reports. The Austrian activist, whose separate privacy case recently led to a $1.3 billion fine against the company, claimed in this case that Meta broke EU privacy laws by pulling data on his sexual orientation via website visits, app logins, and other sources outside of Facebook, using all that data to target him with LGBTQ-specific ads.

Meta denies it engages in this practice. The company says it considers information on sexual orientation sensitive, and doesn’t indiscriminately include it in its advertising efforts.

When Schrems first took his claim to court, an Austrian judge ruled Meta has a right to target Schrems with ads related to his sexual orientation since he previously discussed being gay during a public panel discussion. But the judge also sent Schrems' case up to the EU legal system for its ruling.

Now the Court of Justice of the European Union has disagreed with the Austrian court, saying public statements aren’t a green light for tech companies like Meta to target sensitive ads to users.

The EU court also backed up Schrems’ assertion that Meta just doesn't pull data from users’ activity on their social media services, but also considers their behavior elsewhere on the internet.

'Meta's data pool is growing every day'

Even if Meta can detect that a user is queer from their online or offline activities, the court said, they cannot take that information and use it to target them with personalized advertising. 

In a statement, Meta said it takes privacy very seriously. The company added that it offers settings for users to control how information about them is used.

Schrems' lawyer, Katharina Raabe-Stuppnig, said the court’s ruling will increase limits and controls on Meta’s data-gathering.

"Meta has basically been building a huge data pool on users for 20 years now, and it is growing every day," Raabe-Stuppnig said in a statement, according to ABC News. "However, EU law requires 'data minimisation' ... following this ruling, only a small part of Meta’s data pool will be allowed to be used for advertising — even when users consent to ads."

Schrems' claims may seem like small potatoes. But there are enormous safety risks for LGBTQ+ people online if they are outed by targeted ads, especially in countries where homosexuality and bisexuality is illegal, and transgender people are already targeted for violence.

There may be money to be made by tech companies from deducing someone’s sexual orientation — since that individual may be more prone to buy certain goods and services — companies cannot put people’s lives and livelihoods at risk for that financial advantage, at least in the EU.

Partners, flings, and dates can now be found with a few swipes on our phones  — for better or worse. This is especially true for LGBTQ people: Queer Americans are much more likely to use dating apps than straight ones, according to the Pew Research Center. 

Grindr launched in 2009, completely transforming dating and sex for queer men over the last 15 years. The introduction of accessible apps specifically catering to the queer community (like Grindr and others) broke down significant barriers to finding fellow LGBTQ people in one's area and became a cornerstone of queer sex culture.

The most well-known gay dating and hookup app is still undoubtedly Grindr. However, given recent product issues and growing user frustration, other apps are vying for the new top spot. 

The quick downfall of Grindr

Grindr's rise to become a household name alone showcases how far the community has come, from early 2000s Craigslist ads placed to meet other queer people looking for companionship, to the "largest social networking app for gay, bi, trans and queer people" (according to the app, anyway).

In 2024, however, Grindr has been plagued by issues: updates that led to serious bugs and the introduction of further paywalls. The latter includes limiting the visibility of "taps" (a feature indicating interest without sending a direct message), which are now only visible within three hours of being sent. Also, the "explore" feature (allowing you to bypass the usual location-based method of seeing other users) unlocks only one profile outside a user's grid a day, whereas it used to unlock three. These can only be circumnavigated by purchasing a subscription.

When an app like Grindr becomes so embedded into the queer experience, the removal of features and its failure to deliver due to bugs can feel like a betrayal at best, or a user being severed from the queer community at worst. Especially when features like taps, indicating attraction, are hidden behind a paywall, it becomes clear that connection between people is not the main priority for the organisation at this point.

Despite many other options, Grindr remains the most well-known app with almost 14 million active monthly users globally, according to a spokesperson. In response to a request for comment on the complaints made by users, Grindr's spokesperson said, "Since a major investment in modernising our chat platform earlier this year, we are aware that our users have experienced technical challenges on Grindr. We appreciate our users' loyalty and support as we invest in upgrading and improving the Grindr experience."

That being said, how is it possible that an app with such a huge user base (and earning a revenue of $82 million in Q2 2024 alone) struggles to keep its app functioning at an acceptable level? X (formerly Twitter) and other platforms are littered with complaints from users, relaying instances of bugs occurring without warning. Other apps have been undergoing similar issues, with Feeld's updates late last year causing usability issues.

Gus*, an active Grindr user based in London, thinks the Grindr bugs must be "annoying for those who are more reliant on them, in smaller cities, living with disabilities, etc." For himself, he deals with the bugs and recognises that the paid tiers aren't cheap.

Grindr's paid tiers start at £8.99/$12.99 for a one-week subscription to "XTRA" and up to £34.99/$39.99 for one month of "UNLIMITED" as of publication. Both remove significant limits placed on free accounts, i.e. the ability to see more profiles, taps, and fewer third-party ads.

Other gay dating apps, like Taimi and SCRUFF, swoop in

Whilst Grindr has remained an LGBTQ household name, other apps are becoming more commonplace. Alex Pasykov, founder and CEO of inclusive LGBTQ dating app Taimi, sees this moment as an opportunity, as "since their creation, all apps focused on the algorithm of a man looking for a man have been competing with Grindr in one way or another and dreamed of winning the attention of at least part of their audience."

He recognises that users already use multiple apps at once, with their research suggesting that 60 percent of Taimi users utilise other apps for various reasons.

SCRUFF and Jack'd are two popular LGBTQ apps with 30 million combined registered profiles, many of which log in monthly, according to a spokesperson. SCRUFF represents around 65 percent of these and Jack'd represents the remaining 35 percent. The developer declined to share the exact figures of monthly active users.

"Our company is privately held and is queer-owned and queer-led," says Eric Silverberg, founder of Perry Street Software, developer of SCRUFF and Jack'd, counting this as a principal difference between Perry Street and other apps.

"The publicly-held competitors in the dating landscape are publicly-held stock companies. They have intense pressure to monetise," Silverberg continues. "And eventually, this day would have come, sooner or later, if you have that kind of investor pressure, and this is the consequence you're seeing — a lot of pricing pressure across the board in the software industry broadly, and in [the] dating industry in particular." Grindr went public in 2022, and publicly traded companies own other major dating apps including Tinder and Hinge (both owned by Match Group) and Bumble.

"And it's probably because dating is the area of software that most consumers are exposed to subscriptions, other than video and music subscription services. And the last couple years have been intense pricing pressure upward, and it's most acute for the publicly traded companies," Silverberg says. 

This isn't only an issue with Grindr. Users of apps like Tinder and Bumble have said that over the years the dating apps have gotten worse in terms of more ads and fewer free features. 

Silverberg's sentiment is shared by Donny Smith, chief creative officer at Bttr., a brand and digital experience company. "Dating apps are failing their user base because they're prioritising monetisation over user experience. The relentless push for profits through increased paywalls is alienating users who just want a seamless, reliable experience," Smith says.

Eric, a Boston-based user of queer apps says, "Grindr has become almost unusable at times. The ads pop up probably 3x what they do on SCRUFF, and it'll take 3-4 attempts to close out the ad." Currently, he finds himself most frequently using Sniffies, a hyper-localised LGBTQ app focusing on cruising and a lack of censorship, aiming to foster spontaneous, real-life encounters, currently in a global rollout.

"SCRUFF ads are more manageable, Sniffies free version is super usable and the ads are just messages that sit at the top of your chat list, not terrible," Eric continues.

SCRUFF and Sniffies both offer paid tiers similar to Grindr. SCRUFF Pro starts at £6.99/$9.99 per week, with discounted tiers for longer subscriptions, and offers the ability to see complete messaging histories, which are locked on free tiers. Sniffies pricing starts at £5.99/$10.99 for a one-week trial with similarly discounted tiers and offers the ability to unblock users, see unlimited profiles, and post widely received updates. 

Sniffies' work "is driven by a deep understanding of the unique challenges faced by the LGBTQ community, and we strive to create a platform that is not only functional but also empowering, risk-taking, and inclusive," says Eli Martin, Sniffies' CMO and creative director.

Similarly, Silverberg attributes some of Perry Street's success to a real understanding and focus on the LGBTQ community. "We have worked over the years to build a very thoughtful, very intentional queer ad business," he says. "We only work with advertisers that want to be on our platform, they really want to reach our community, not working with shady games companies."

Silverberg explains that some ads are intended to normalise and share important messages, recognising that repeated exposure to messaging on PrEP (a medication used to significantly reduce the risk of contracting HIV), can have a huge effect in the long term.

Grindr's frequent pop-up ads, meanwhile, often feature low-budget games that push you toward the App Store.

The need for gay dating apps to stay accessible

Eric explains that "meeting people on apps is sometimes easier for me," continuing that he's "not necessarily a big 'club' person, so I'm not often in spaces where people are trying to find someone for romantic or sexual encounters."

Seventy-two percent agreed that online dating plays a significant role in making connections and forming relationships with others in the LGBTQIA+ community, according to a survey by Tinder provided to Mashable, carried out with 4,000 respondents from the LGBTQIA+ community in the UK, U.S., Australia and Canada.

The cost of living crisis is likely to affect those from marginalised groups more severely. With dating and hookup apps also facing rising costs and increasing their subscription prices, those from marginalised groups are likely to be disproportionately impacted by changes made by developers in their pursuit of financial stability and profit maximisation. With free functionality beginning to become more limited as paywalls rise, it is not unreasonable to suspect barriers to accessing queer communities will increase.

"I'm a business owner," Silverberg explains. "And so we have software subscription products that we buy to power our business. They are all pressing us. Every single one is pressing us on price in the last 12 to 24 months."

Apps like Grindr are attempting to push these rising costs onto consumers. This reeks of short-term thinking, only seeing your user base as a financial resource — not your platform's lifeblood. With an area so sensitive as dating, users want to feel trust in their platforms of choice, not like they will be expected to drop more and more money to meet a future partner. These apps may succeed in cutting themselves off from their target demographics through a relentless pursuit of profit. 

* Dating app users chose to go by their first names only for privacy reasons.

This column reflects the opinion of the author.

Will Farrell and Harper Steele have been close friends and collaborators for decades. Here, they talk about what is at the heart of Will & Harper, a road trip documentary they made after Harper's transition.

Will & Harper is currently streaming on Netflix.

This content originally appeared on Mashable for a US audience and has been adapted for the UK audience.

Online dating as a lesbian, for the most part, still involves having your space invaded by straight people.

The heteronormative weirdness got so alienating that lesbians began turning to TikTok as a means of meeting other single lesbians — turns out, it's a pretty good matchmaker.

But it's unrealistic to expect a social media app to work like a dating app for everyone. It's hard for some of us to comprehend, but not everyone spends every free minute on TikTok. Lesbians who have exhausted their local romantic options are still going to want to see who else is out there in time for cuffing season.

Is online dating difficult for lesbians?

For much of current history, some people have acted as though lesbians didn't exist outside of porn and Ellen DeGeneres, while jokes swirled about how girls only turned to dating women if they had a bad experience with a man. Even in 2023, these tone-deaf assumptions still find a way to rain on the lesbian online dating experience. If it's not a man appearing in your feed when you specifically marked that you're searching for women, it's matching with a woman just to be hit with the classic "My boyfriend and I are looking for a threesome."

There's one big problem: The apps targeted toward the straights are still where most of the queer users are, too. Though women-only apps like HER are gaining traction fast, they can still be a bit of a ghost town...or a scammer's paradise. You just have to decide whether you'd rather deal with the quirks of Tinder and have more options to swipe through or be fine with coming across the same profile three times as long as it's not a man.

What is the best dating app for lesbians?

A decent number of dating sites and apps specifically for lesbians do exist, but most are plagued with the same issues: Either their sole purpose is to sexualise lesbians and aren't really meant for genuine connection at all, or their lax security protocols make it way too easy for ill-intentioned men to sign up pretending to be women. If you're wondering why we left most of those so-called female-only apps out, that's why.

With that in mind, we have lined up a selection of strong options to suit lesbians and gay women. Hopefully, there is something for everyone in this roundup.

These are the best dating apps for lesbians in 2025.

This content originally appeared on Mashable for a US audience and has been adapted for the UK audience.

The bisexual community has an inside joke that describes what it's like to date as a bi person: People think it means double the options or double the fun, but it really just means double the rejection.

Self-deprecating jokes like this one are at the core of the Single People Club regardless of sexuality, but bisexual people do face extra roadblocks in the dating world.

Yes, online dating sucks for everyone. Horny jerks disguise themselves as relationship seekers, your DMs are constantly filled with bad pickup lines and overly persistent creeps, and many times, the site's algorithm ignores the filters that you've set. But the fact that there are no dating sites that cater specifically to bi people means that they're frequently swiping on people who don't take bisexuality seriously.

The "B" in LGBTQ+ makes up 50 percent of the queer community, but it's one of the least-acknowledged letters in the acronym. There are dating sites for lesbians and dating sites for gay men, but nothing specifically for those who identify as bisexual. What makes the bi dating landscape — especially the online one — so tricky to manoeuvre?

What is unicorn hunting?

One of the most antiquated stereotypes about bisexual people is that they're always down to get physical and down for polyamory. "Unicorn" is a term used to describe a bisexual person (usually a woman) who sleeps with heterosexual couples. In online dating, unicorn hunting is when a straight, taken female user toggles that she's "looking for women" — not genuinely looking for a girl to get to know romantically, but rather for a girl interested in a threesome with her and her boyfriend or husband or whoever. Of course, they don't mention this until later.

No one is saying that threesomes are bad. Reddit users who have experienced this mention that they don't have a problem with "ethical non-monogamy." They have a problem with being tricked into it.

Are bisexuals welcome on heteronormative apps?

Another frequent bisexual experience is one that all women face online, now heightened by the mere mention of "bi" in a dating app bio: men being creepy. Too many straight men have yet to grasp the concept that bisexuality is not a green light to ask a stranger how many girls they've been with or if she likes men or women better.

Catfishing is also an issue. Some men have such a rabid obsession with queer women that they'll sign up for a dating site as a woman just to see an all-women swiping field. It's a total privacy breach at the least, and certainly doesn't boost your willingness to meet up with someone in real life. Many dating sites are working to increase transparency about first name and age by requiring Facebook verification during sign-up.

Are queer dating apps inviting to bisexual users?

Does "gold star lesbian" ring a bell? The delineation is given to lesbians who have never slept with a man. Countless bisexual women have reported being ghosted after disclosing that they have been with a guy before, and profiles with "gold stars only" in the bio have popped up, too.

This crowd of Reddit users explain the ways they've experienced biphobia on gay or lesbian dating sites. They've been told that they're not "actually bisexual" if they haven't been with anyone of the same gender before or that they're "basically straight" if their most recent relationship was a heterosexual one. Summed up: if you're not monosexually gay, it's a cop-out. Invalidating someone's sexual experiences is the opposite of the supportive sex-positivity that you'd expect from inside the queer community, and it contributes to many bisexual folks' struggles of not feeling queer enough.

Should you put "bi" in your dating app bio?

Adding those two simple letters to your bio will draw some unwanted attention, and it's going to be a pain in the ass. But in the long run, it'll also act like a filter to weed out people who try to put sexual orientation into a box.

The idea that being bisexual is just a pit stop to being "fully-blown gay" — or that it means that you're attracted to everyone you see — probably aren't thoughts you'd prefer a partner to have. They're especially not opinions you'd like to hear about months down the road from someone you thought you knew well. The easiest way to ensure that you won't be left heartbroken over someone not accepting your sexuality? Let them know from the jump.

"Coming out" over and over again is unfair. But doing so right off the bat also acts as an early screening for people who identify as bi but say they wouldn't date another bi person — something that a lot of bi men experience from bi women.

Can you actually find a relationship online?

Do bisexual people get dealt a tough hand on dating apps? Yes. Does that mean meeting someone special online is impossible? Absolutely not. A 2017 study cited in the MIT Technology Review found that people who meet online are more likely to be compatible and have a higher chance of a healthy marriage if they decide to get hitched. Further, a 2019 study done at Stanford found that nearly two-thirds of modern same-sex couples meet online.

It sucks that there's no legit dating app specifically devoted to bi individuals and other singles who respect what it means to be bi — yet. However, this also means that a good portion of other single bi folks are probably on those popular dating apps that you've considered. At least you know the user base is there.

What is the best dating app for bisexual people?

There are a lot of dating apps out there, each offering a different set of features that will suit some daters better than others. To help you find something that suits you and your lifestyle, we have lined up a selection of standout options that should suit just about everyone.

These are the best dating apps for bisexual people in 2025.

Grindr's been in the news a lot lately, but not for the reasons one might expect. This popular hookup app has been doing the most — from celebrating the US Open with a cheeky "grunt" notification to prioritizing the safety of international users during the Olympics.

Now, the company is going beyond the app with the launch of its Host or Travel online series, which explores different gayborhoods around the globe. A gayborhood is basically an area known to welcome and attract LGBTQ people. So far, Host or Travel has featured six destinations: Madrid, Spain; Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Los Angeles, U.S.; Zipolite, Mexico; Berlin, Germany; and Malta. The series (available on YouTube, the Grindr blog, and social media) offers a more intimate look at local culture, nightlife, and hole-in-the-wall places that only LGBTQ insiders would know about.

As, unfortunately, not everyone's hometown has a gayborhood, Grindr hopes to bring a "global gayborhood" — a digital space within the app that connects and provides resources for the worldwide LGBTQ community — to life. In tandem with the show, the app is developing an interactive map to help users find LGBTQ-friendly hotspots and events. (This feature isn't fully rolled out yet, but you might see it before the year's end.) Additionally, the company is testing a new "Roam" feature, which will let users temporarily set their profile location to anywhere in the world so they can chat and connect with locals ahead of their trip. This is pretty similar to location features that Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge have.

"Roam is the first of many future Gayborhood features we are launching, and it unlocks new travel functionality to bring you one step closer to other Grindr users around the globe," George Arison, chief executive officer of Grindr, said in a press release.

This shift might surprise those familiar with Grindr's well-known reputation for quick hookups sans shame. However, at a recent presentation at Grindr HQ (which I attended in person), company leaders revealed that approximately 3.5 million people already use the app to make traveling in new cities easier — from finding LGBTQ-friendly accommodations to connecting with locals for recommendations and events.

We're excited to see what other travel-focused features Grindr has planned, and will keep you updated as more details are shared in the coming months.

This content originally appeared on Mashable for a US audience and has been adapted for the UK audience.

Most people have at least one horror story about online dating. It's a rite of passage that single people love to hate.

But the horror stories look a little different for members of the LGBTQ community. On top of the classic awkward Hinge date anecdotes and screenshots of a corny bio seeping with secondhand embarrassment, gay singles deal with all sorts of alienating interactions. Baseless questioning of sexual history, harassment, and fetishisation — some of it coming from cis straight people who shouldn't have popped up in your feed in the first place — don't exactly result in butterflies.

Still, dating apps have become crucial means of introduction for gay folks looking to settle down. A 2019 Stanford study and 2020 Pew Research survey found that meeting online has become the most popular way for couples to connect — especially for gay couples, of which 28 percent met their current partner online (versus 11 percent of straight couples).

But the Pew survey also dredged up those ugly experiences with harassment. This could be where options that bar heterosexual users, like HER and Grindr, come in. Their perfectly-tailored environments are so well-known in the gay community that they're essentially in a league of their own.

Is Grindr the only option for gay dating apps?

Though Grindr and HER are big players, they're not alone in the queer dating app market. Apps like Zoe, Taimi, and Scruff exist. But their plateauing popularity can be attributed to similar complaints: too many scam profiles and too few legitimate users (ones within a reasonable distance to plan a date, anyway). Chappy was a promising app for gay men that shut down just as it was gaining serious traction.

And at the end of the day, "everyone" apps are simply where masses of queer users are. Keeping Tinder on the back burner isn't just a straight people thing, especially for those who live in less-populated areas where Grindr and HER offer slim pickings. Plus, some mainstream apps do deserve credit for the steps they've taken to create a more inclusive atmosphere. Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge now offer lots of sexual orientation and gender identity options. OkCupid gets kudos for making that change years ago, as well as making social justice a core part of compatibility scoring — which kind of self-curates the type of people on the app.

What is the best gay dating app?

If you're part of the LGBTQ community and hate leaving your home, you're not alone. These are the apps and sites that'll maximise your opportunities while minimising your human contact.

These are the best gay dating apps in 2025.

The bisexual community has an inside joke describing what it's like to date as a bi person: People think it means double the options and double the fun, but it really just means double the rejection (sad trombone sound effect).

You have to be able to laugh at self-deprecating jokes like this if you're a member of the Lonely Hearts Club, regardless of whether you're diving into the straight or gay dating scene. But bisexual people do face extra roadblocks in the dating world.

Online dating absolutely sucks for everyone, but the fact that there's only a single bisexual dating site that caters specifically to this community (and even then, we're kind of iffy about it) means many folks are frequently swiping on people who don't take bisexuality seriously. In 2024, that shouldn't be the reality.

The "B" in LGBTQ+ makes up 50 percent of the queer community, according to data from the Human Rights Campaign, but it's also one of the least-acknowledged letters in the acronym. What makes the bisexual dating landscape — especially the online one — so tricky to maneuver?

Before we get into the best dating apps for bisexuals, let's tackle this question for a sec.

Bisexuality is hyper-sexualized on heteronormative apps

Something bisexual women are all too familiar with when navigating online dating is the concept — one as old as time — of men being straight-up creeps. It's like heterosexual men can't seem to grasp that bisexuality is not a green light to ask a woman how many girls she's been with or if she likes men or women better. Such comments, especially from absolute strangers online, are disconcerting at best and threatening at worst.

Megan, a 23-year-old woman from Virginia, told us via Facebook that she couldn't even count the number of gross (slash ignorant) messages she'd received from men in reference to writing "bi" in her Tinder bio. "There were times when they would be like, 'Oh, you never seemed gay in high school' or whatever, because gay is obviously a personality trait 🙃," she said. "Like my sexuality wasn’t a real thing, or it was just a fetish to these people."

On most dating apps, there are a lot of couples only looking for bi women to hook up with. We aren't saying that threesomes are wrong, but let's not assume that every bi person is dreaming of hooking up with you and your beau. You'd think the user base on queer dating apps would be more enlightened than on comparatively heteronormative apps, but that's not always the case.

Catfishing is also an issue bi folks have to grapple with. Some men have such a rabid obsession with queer women that they'll sign up for a dating site as a woman just to see an all-women swiping field. It's a total privacy breach and certainly doesn't boost your willingness to meet up with someone IRL. That's why the best dating sites require some form of Facebook or ID verification these days; in the case of Tinder, built-in background checks are (thankfully) now a mainstay feature of the app.

Queer dating apps aren't always inviting, either

Does "gold star lesbian" sound familiar to you? Not everyone sees the label as a positive, despite its cheerful-sounding name. It refers to lesbians who have never slept with a man. Countless bisexual women have reported being ghosted after disclosing that they have been with a guy before, and even on the best dating apps for bisexual women, profiles with "gold stars only" in the bio have popped up.

Then there's the issue of bi people feeling invisible when they're deemed too "straight passing," which can often happen in queer spaces. This kind of invalidation contributes to many bisexual folks' struggles of not feeling queer enough.

This feels a lot like the impossible Goldilocks principle, doesn't it, of being too much and never enough?

Why you might still want to put "bi" in your dating app bio

Adding those two simple letters to your bio may draw unwanted attention, and it's going to be a pain in the ass. But in the long run, it also acts as an asshole filter to weed out people who try to put sexual orientation into a box.

Just think about it: Would you want your partner to think that being bisexual is just a pit stop on the road to being a "full-blown gay"? Of course not. Then there's the old stereotype that bisexuality means you want to bang anything that moves. The easiest way to ensure that you won't be left heartbroken over someone rejecting or questioning your sexuality is to let them know how you identify from the jump. You deserve the very best, which means only those people who accept you as you are.

With all of this in mind — and it's a lot to keep in mind — we wanted to review the best bi dating apps. We can't promise you'll never have a bad experience on these (indeed, mishaps are all but guaranteed when you brave dating apps), but we believe these particular apps give bisexual men, women, and non-binary folks the very best shot at finding a compatible partner.

The adage "you can never go home again" speaks to the indifference of time passing. Sure, you can go back to your hometown whenever, but the "you" and the "home" will never be the same again. This is the dilemma facing the trans protagonist in the indie drama Close to You, which is both fronted and produced by Elliot Page (Umbrella Academy). After years of personal struggle, Sam is finally in good standing with himself. But what will happen when this him goes back to a home — and family — who may not understand? 

Made after Page came out as trans in 2020, this touching and clearly personal film grapples with issues of trans acceptance and the definition of family — but not successfully. 

What's Close to You about? 

Credit: Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment

Canadian actor Elliot Page stars as Sam, a trans man who is traveling to his hometown of Cobourg, Canada, to visit his family for the first time since transitioning. Directed by Dominic Savage, Close to You begins with some simple visual storytelling by establishing Sam in his Toronto rental, where he comfortably walks around without a shirt, his scars from top surgery on casual display. While making breakfast, he's joined by his housemate, who offers support but suggests maybe Sam need not put himself under the microscope of his family just because it's his dad's birthday. 

Despite his reluctance, Sam will go. Much of the drama will play out in his childhood home, between his parents, siblings, and their respective partners. However, woven throughout these family beats are bits of a romantic reunion between Sam and his high school bestie/crush Katherine (Hillary Baack). What begins as an enthusiastic conversation on a train spins into long walks and heavy-handed talks about what was and what could be. 

Close to You takes a big risk that doesn't pay off. 

Credit: Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment

Though Savage and Page are credited as screenwriters on the film, the production was made up largely of improvised dialogue — including a 53-minute take that is considerably cut down in the final edit. While a daring approach, it is the movie's biggest obstacle. A woeful lack of structure means one scene tumbles into another with little motivation. Sam's walks with Katherine feel so disjointed from the rest of the movie that I began to wonder if they were a flight of fantasy. Was Sam so under pressure by the tense family dynamics in the house that he imagined a safe space with the girl of his dreams smiling warmly at him? Or were the walks along the beach just a sincerely sentimental cliche? 

A strong narrative structure wouldn't be a problem if Close to You played as a slice-of-life drama. But there too the film feels thin, in part because the dialogue — again, much of it improvised — lacks specificity. There's a slog of naturalistic but uncompelling dialogue occurring between collections of characters that does little to distinguish them from each other. Sam has two sisters (Janet Porter and Alex Paxton-Beesley), and they're chiefly defined by the men they date. One has a friendly beau who is smiling and enthusiastic to meet Sam. The other sister boasts a sneering transphobe (David Reale) for a fiancé, the kind who insists he's just asking questions and trying to play by "the rules" while making everyone else uncomfortable. 

As the sisters seem to exist chiefly to introduce opposing attitudes toward Sam, one might wonder why they are needed at all. Couldn't the sisters be in opposition, as opposed to the boyfriends? Doesn't it weaken the stakes to have a family outsider giving voice to the tiresome transphobic talking points? As it is, the collection of kin feels ill-defined, and some are outright unneeded. 

Further frustrating, Savage's staging of the introduction of the family is in a clumsy and darkly lit wide shot. So, it's difficult to make out from the jump who is who. Later, when one of this crew (Daniel Maslany) pours his heart out to the film's hero, it might have been a touching moment — if I had any idea who he was in relation to Sam! It's as if Savage is taking for granted that these abstractions of characters will be enough, perhaps relying on audiences to plug and play their own family into the roles, for better or worse. But with cinematography that gives little focus to anyone's close-ups save for Page, it's hard to see, much less connect with, the majority of the ensemble. 

Close to You offers drama that is earnest but not earned. 

Credit: Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment

Even Sam can be a vexing enigma. Vocally, he expresses how he wishes to be seen by his family as the whole of who he is, and not solely defined as trans. However, his trans identity is the most talked-about element of the character in Close to You. Aside from the swift intro, we don't see much of his life in Toronto. The ambiguous dialogue keeps talk of his romantic life and community there very vague. When asked about his work — even repeatedly — he only says that he likes it, never mentioning what it is or why he enjoys it. It's less than small talk. What he does is never revealed, nor are any other friends, and so goes another opportunity to get to know Sam beyond his trans identity and his family's fighting. 

Sam's romance with Katherine does bolster the character, as it shows a side of him where he doesn't need to be on guard or constantly explaining his right to exist. These scenes seem to aim for a Before Midnight vibe, but again, improvised dialogue keeps things vague — albeit sweet and sentimental. While Page and Baack do share a warm chemistry, it's not so white-hot that the third-act possibility of a romantic runaway relationship feels likely, perhaps especially amid so much naturalistic dialogue that suggests only grounded choices are on the table. 

The bits that work best in this film are those between Sam and his parents. In a kitchen scene, his mother (Wendy Crewson) — desperate to show her support — awkwardly offers him money in the middle of asking him to help with the cooking. There is specificity, with her welcoming him into her space and trying to reach out the way many parents do. Later, his father (Peter Outerbridge) reflects on when Sam left home, laying out the fears he faced in not being within reach of his child. Here again, details paint the picture of these people, their relationship, and the stakes Sam and his family face. 

For much of the film, Close to You keeps us at arm's length. Its experiment with improvisation might have had great intentions in terms of seeking authenticity. However, this method ultimately fails in constructing a successfully engaging narrative or fleshed-out characters. Sam's journey is carried chiefly by Page's performance, which is sharp-eyed and big-hearted. However, as Sam meanders from romantic rendezvous to stressful dining room debate and back again, it's difficult to connect to the flow of the film, especially with so much stagnant dialogue. Despite good intentions, Close to You has lofty aims but wobbly execution. 

Close to You opens in theaters Aug. 16.

UPDATE: Aug. 14, 2024, 2:14 p.m. EDT This review was first published on Sept. 16, 2023, out of the film's world premiere at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival.

During COVID lockdown in 2020 and 2021, Emma, now a 28-year-old in Cambridge, Massachusetts, discovered something unexpected on TikTok. Suddenly, her For You Page was full of content that would lead her to challenge her own identity: Cool lesbians.  

Emma, who chose to go by her first-name only for privacy reasons, had not allowed herself to engage with the part of her that desired women, though she always knew it was there, deep down. 

"I tried so hard to be straight," she says of her adolescence, having exclusively dated men up until her mid-20s, despite being raised in a supportive family that consisted of multiple queer people. "Society forces us to kind of be in the closet." 

In the wake of sapphic TikTok rabbit holes, Emma decided to add women to her Hinge preferences, while still "really questioning" her sexuality and grappling with internalized homophobia. 

"I would use it from afar," she says. "I wasn't fully engaging in it." 

After spending a quarter of a century not allowing her attraction to women "surface" even in her own conscious thoughts, the idea of matching with — or even dating — a woman was almost unimaginable. "I couldn't really see myself doing that," she says. 

She soon met a man from Hinge whom she dated for nearly a year and a half. Throughout that relationship, she was open and honest with her partner about her sexuality journey. With his support, she redownloaded Hinge and set it on women only. Emma noticed right away how much easier it was to make a profile geared towards women rather than men. Finally, she wasn't "trying to be someone [she's] not." 

Eventually, when that relationship ended, she felt ready to start seeing women out in the real world, not just within an app on her phone. 

Now, she is still with her girlfriend whom she met on Hinge. 

Emma is part of a huge cohort of women who are discovering their queerness later in life with the help of social media platforms and dating apps. 

Exploring sexuality on dating apps

It's no great shock that dating apps offer the semblance of a private place to explore. Lesbian, gay, and bisexual Americans are "far more likely" to date online than heterosexuals, as the Pew Research Center found in a 2022 study. In its 2023 Future of Dating report, Tinder found that 54 percent of young LGBTQ+ survey respondents had "come out" on dating apps before coming out to friends and family.  

Justin R. Garcia, Ph.D., executive director of the Kinsey Institute at Indiana University, says dating apps "allow people to dream" in an "unprecedented" way, offering "a window into a world of possibility."

Gen Z has ushered in massive generational shifts in awareness around human sexuality and forces like compulsory heterosexuality, or "comp het": the idea that women are socialized to compulsively desire male attention, regardless of sexual orientation. The "Lesbian Masterdoc," a viral PDF originally published on Tumblr, can take at least some credit for the widespread understanding of the concept, as Them reported in January. But TikTok and a new wave of pop cultural representation have been engines of sapphic education.  

More than 38 million videos on TikTok use the hashtag #comphet as of publication. Top videos under the hashtag, many of which have millions of likes, educate women on the "signs" and "symptoms" of comp het that may be holding them back from realizing they're gay. 

Chappell Roan's "Good Luck, Babe!" — all about a woman who makes out with boys in bars "just to stop the feeling" of being attracted to girls — is the artist's most popular song on Spotify with over 440 million streams. The artists Reneé Rapp and Billie Eilish have both recently come out as women who love women, with both sharing that they took time to come into their sexualities. 

This visibility is changing the landscape for women like Emma, who said she didn't observe much lesbian culture that resonated with her in her upbringing in the 2000s and 2010s. 

"There's just less documentation and awareness of sapphic culture," says Robyn Exton, the founder and CEO of HER, a sapphic dating app that first launched in 2015 and changed the dating app landscape for queer women. 

Now, Exton says, our culture is having a "sapphic renaissance." 

Discovering my queerness online

When I've come out to people over the last year, many peers have joked that my queerness is part of the moment. And maybe it is — I definitely knew all the words to Chappell Roan's "Casual" before I let myself have feelings for a woman for the first time. But it took a hell of a long time to get here. 

I downloaded Tinder soon after turning 18. I had only dated boys, but in the safety of my iPhone, I allowed myself to engage with my attraction towards women for the first time. 

Over the next 10 years, this became a habit, as I teetered in and out of the closet. Whenever I was single, I'd toggle my dating app settings from men to women and swipe, chat, and flirt with women. There was an illicit rush in what felt like lurking. 

Inevitably, when someone would ask to meet up, or I ran into someone in real life whom I'd spoken to on an app, I would panic: matches deleted, app switched back to men. But for a little while, I allowed my desire for women to seep through in small bursts, hidden within my phone's blue light. 

Moe Ari Brown, LMFT, a relationship therapist and queer advocate who works for Hinge as the company's love and connection expert, says dating apps give people who are questioning the "control to navigate their journey and preferences at their own pace." 

Those days, I sometimes felt guilty for taking up space in an app where I wasn't sure I belonged. Several Reddit threads depict women questioning the ethics of engaging in a queer online space while still figuring out their own sexuality. 

Experts say there's nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you're open and honest about where you are in your journey. 

"While not every queer person has identified as questioning, the exploration and integration process is still a common experience," Brown says, adding that 80 percent of LGBTQIA+ daters polled in a 2023 Hinge survey said they were open to being someone's first queer dating experience. 

'Questioning' sexuality – but staying scared 

I remember so many of those girls whose pretty faces and flirty texts terrified me. Something felt foreign and dangerous in my desire, so different from my attraction to men. 

Last year, Eilish herself famously told Variety that she was "still scared" of women, highlighting how anxiety-laden new sapphic experiences can be. 

Ava Shakib, ASW, a therapist and educator at the queer-focused Expansive Group in San Diego, California, says she has had many sapphic clients express fear around coming on too forward with women, especially after years of playing a submissive role in relationships with men. 

Women fear their "assertiveness" may be seen as "aggressive or coercive," because they have a "high awareness" of the potential for a dominant sexual partner to "victimize other women." 

Garcia cites the lack of sex education in America as a key element to folks struggling to understand their sexual desires. "A lot of people don't have the language to speak about this," he says. 

HER, Tinder, and Hinge allow users to identify their sexualities as "Questioning." Exton says she believes HER plays an "incredibly critical role" for people in the coming-out process, specifically. 

Feeld, which is most popularly known as a kink- and polyamory-friendly app, regularly updates its sexuality and gender identity label offerings. The app's users are encouraged to "pursue personal growth through connection with others" on the app, according to Ashley Dos Santos, head of communications at Feeld. 

Dos Santos says that more than 60 percent of Feeld members reported having a "personal transformation" in their first year on the app, shifting their sexuality or desires. 

Of course, women with same-sex attraction don't always end up with other women once they've had the time to explore. When Amanda* was in her early 20s, she took to Tinder to explore her attraction towards women. She had long been masturbating to lesbian porn and images of beautiful women in magazines, with no understanding of what that might mean for her sexuality. 

While she spent some time dating and sleeping primarily with women for the first time, both in Boston and in Chicago, she felt she lacked the romantic connection she had always felt with men. Her sexual attraction for women was real, but there seemed to be something missing. 

"Such a bummer," jokes Amanda, now 33 and living in Chicago with her male long-term partner.

Still, Amanda is hesitant to label her sexuality. "People always want to call me bisexual," she says, citing her frustration around memes mocking bisexual women in relationships with men. "It's more nuanced than that." 

Amanda says she is still open to further exploring throughout the course of her life. For now, she tends to use the word "queer" when describing her sexuality, though she's afraid to take up that space as a cisgender woman in a relationship with a cisgender man. 

As Shakib says: "Questioning your queerness is part of queerness."

* Pseudonym used to protect sources' privacy on the topic of sex and relationships. 

In case you somehow haven't heard, the Olympics are in Paris this year, and it seems like everyone's using the games to level up their dating game and hopefully find a new (athletic) partner in the city of love.

Tinder's launched an ad campaign for the Olympics, encouraging users to "connect with pro athletes" via the Passport Mode feature. Apparently, the terms "Olympian" and "athlete" have seen a significant increase in mentions on the app too.

But Grindr's taking a different approach: Instead of promoting hookups with athletes, Grindr's focusing on creating a safe digital space for LGBTQ+ athletes, especially those from countries where their identity could put them at risk. This isn't new for Grindr either; they implemented similar safety measures during the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics.

For users within the Olympic Village, Grindr is disabling location-based features like "Explore" and "Roam," and making the "show distance" feature opt-in. The company has also implemented safeguards like blocking screenshots to prevent unintentional outings.

Other privacy controls include the ability to send unlimited disappearing messages and unsend messages after they've been sent (even for free users). Grindr's also disabling private videos within the Olympic Village and sending out weekly reminders about potential risks, just to keep everyone safe and informed.

The app also noted that the only ads that will appear on Grindr within the village will be from Grindr for Equality, which promotes health and safety resources.

"You won't see third-party advertisements — only Grindr for Equality public service announcements to help keep users informed and safe," Grindr announced.

It's unfortunate that we’d even need these types of safety measures, but the reality is that in some parts of the world, LGBTQ+ individuals still face severe discrimination, persecution, and even the threat of violence. Hopefully, with Grindr taking these proactive steps, LGBTQ+ athletes can connect without fear of being outed or targeted.

National Anthem Filmmaker Luke Gilford is joined by Mason Alexander Park, Charlie Plummer and Eve Lindley to discuss the significance of a film highlighting queerness in American rodeo culture.

National Anthem is in theaters now.

Elon Musk has announced that both X aka Twitter and SpaceX will be moving their headquarters from California to Texas. Strangely, the decision was prompted by the billionaire's apparent belief that teachers should be made to forcibly out LGBTQ kids.

Musk revealed the news on Tuesday across several posts on X, reacting to a new Californian law passed earlier this week. The new law bans Californian school districts from mandating that teachers tell parents if their child's sexual orientation or gender identity has changed, becoming the first U.S. state to do so. 

To be clear, Assembly Bill No. 1955 doesn't actually prohibit teachers from relaying such information to caregivers. It merely means that school districts can't implement a blanket requirement that they must. Yet Musk took objection to this, calling California's new law "the final straw."

"Because of this law and the many others that preceded it, attacking both families and companies, SpaceX will now move its HQ from Hawthorne, California, to Starbase, Texas," Musk wrote. "And X HQ will move to Austin."

This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed.

California's new law aims to protect LGBTQ children

There are numerous reasons why a child might not want their caregivers to know their sexuality or gender identity. While some parents will love and support their child regardless of how they identify, many others have demonstrated otherwise. A 2019 study found that less than half of parents had positive responses to learning that their child was transgender. A 2009 study found that LGBTQ children who are rejected by their families are nearly six times more likely to report high levels of depression, as well as over eight times more likely to attempt suicide. 

Informing parents that their child is LGBTQ risks significant harm to said child, carrying the danger of abuse, rejection, and the removal of their support system.

"Studies confirm that LGBTQ+ youth thrive when they have parental support and feel safe sharing their full identities with them, but it can be harmful to force young people to share their full identities before they are ready," Assembly Bill No. 1955 reads. "Policies that forcibly 'out' pupils without their consent remove opportunities for LGBTQ+ young people and their families to build trust and have these conversations when they are ready."

Even so, it seems as though Musk considers outing children against their will preferable to allowing them to go to their parents in their own time. The billionaire characterised the law as a "massive destruction of parental rights," accusing it of "putting children at risk for permanent damage."

At least one Texas school district requires teachers to inform parents if their child is transgender after it established a new policy in August last year. Twenty-three students in the Katy Independent School District were subsequently outed to their parents by early December, while at least one transgender student dropped out of school. The Katy Independent School District is now under investigation by the Department of Education's Office for Civil Rights, as its policy is accused of discriminating against students on the basis of sex.

Musk's objection to laws regarding LGBTQ children isn't the only reason he's keen to exit California, though. He also claimed that the state allows crime to "run rampant," and that he's "had enough of dodging gangs of violent drug addicts just to get in and out of the building."

The billionaire has further expressed a preference for situating companies in Texas. Musk previously ran a poll asking whether he should transfer Tesla's state of incorporation from Delaware to Texas, prompted by a Delaware court's January decision to throw out his $55.8 billion Tesla compensation package. Tesla subsequently filed to make the change in February, with Musk having already moved its physical headquarters from California to Texas in 2021.

Musk's sizable Tesla compensation package was eventually restored in June following a shareholder vote on reapproval.

There are those in America who would have you believe there is no place in country western culture for LGBTQ+ folk. These people might put forth that the cowboy is the ultimate sign of traditional masculinity. They might suggest that life on a ranch is so hard, it's definitively heteronormative. They might sneer there's no room for drag at a rodeo. Those people will hate National Anthem. 

For his feature debut, co-writer/director Luke Gilford found inspiration in his experiences as a queer kid coming up in a rodeo family and his professional photography capturing queer rodeo. National Anthem is a tale not of culture clash but of culture combining. Through the story of a lonely young man, this drama explores a side of Americana that is rural and rhinestones, true grit and truly gay. There, he will not only find his first love, but also himself. 

What's National Anthem about? 

Credit: TIFF

Charlie Plummer stars as Dylan, an introverted 21-year-old cowboy who works long days in construction to provide for his oft-drunk single mom (Robyn Lively) and his jolly little brother. His life is one of sacrifice. He gives his time, money, and patience to their needs while ignoring his own. That is, until he meets the burly Pepe (Rene Rosado) and the breezy Sky (Bros' Eve Lindley). 

Deep down a dirt road in New Mexico, this polyamorous couple owns a ranch called House of Splendor. There, they live with their found family, which includes gay and trans members as well as a nonbinary drag queen with a fairy godmother vibe (The Sandman's Mason Alexander Park). From day one, Dylan can't help but stop and stare in awe of these free spirits, who ride horseback in shimmering gowns, dance about in their underwear unashamed, and laugh loud and proud like no one in his home has ever. But it's radiant Sky who steals his heart. 

As the group welcomes him into their fold — and to the queer rodeo where they compete for shiny belt buckles — Dylan begins to come out of his shell. A bit of blue eye makeup there, a no-judgment conversation there, and soon he's happier than his mom has ever seen him. This raises her suspicions, especially as he begins to take his little brother out on day trips with his new friends. 

National Anthem is a hazy dream of young love. 

Credit: TIFF

The screenplay by Kevin Best, Luke Gilford, and David Largman Murray is light on plot, focusing half-heartedly on Dylan's infatuation with Sky — and to a lesser extent, Pepe. They will flirt, fuck, and share their feelings — with cinematographer Katelin Arizmendi capturing passion and fervent fondling in yearning close-ups. The chemistry between this threesome is heady and hot, reminiscent of European movies of the '60s and '70s, with a glossy polish of perfectly gorgeous leads and a warm color palette that relishes flushed flesh. However, this movie is bigger than their romance — and is not concerned with labeling its characters within the LGBTQ spectrum.

The film gives voice to its reticent protagonist, the kind of cowboy too often overlooked in country western culture. Dylan's longing isn't hidden among the subtext of gunplay, like in Howard Hawks' Red River. His desire has neither twisted him into a vengeful parody of hetero-machismo, like in The Power of the Dog, nor bent him into a muttering, miserable figure of tragedy, as in Brokeback Mountain. And it hasn't instantly transformed him into a glittering gay cowboy icon, like Lil Nas X in "Old Town Road." His journey involves drug store makeup, cheap wigs, and a clumsy yet powerful lip-synch performance. Surrounding Dylan at the rodeo, there is only love — in a dizzying montage of crop tops and cowboy hats, burly bears making out as their belt buckles bump, while a resplendent Black drag queen in a sequined gown and crisp ten-gallon hat sings the national anthem. Rather than offering up a tidy narrative, Gilford gives his audience a safe space that's majestic in its natural beauty of sprawling terrain and the unapologetic glamor and sensuality of its queer rodeo folk. 

Therein lies National Anthem's greatest virtue. While many, many narratives of queerness in America — especially those set in traditionally conservative spaces — center on tragedy, National Anthem is about queer joy. There are moments in which this found family shares the heartbreak and ostracism they've suffered from homophobic parents. But these characters are shown as far more than queer and tragic. They are joyous. They are creative. They are resilient. Whether strutting on a stage or communing with a persnickety stallion, they are at home in this place. And we are invited in to experience the bliss of House of Splendor.

Grounded by vulnerable yet effervescent performances, National Anthem is a celebration of rural queerness. It's not a rallying cry, but instead a firm declaration of existence and the pursuit of happiness. Wrapped in the sunny hues of the New Mexican desert and floating on the charisma of a sexy and vulnerable ensemble, this drama charts its own path with clear eyes and queer hearts. 

National Anthem is in theaters now.

UPDATE: Jul. 11, 2024, 2:07 p.m. EDT "National Anthem" was reviewed out of the Toronto International Film Festival in this article, originally published on Sept. 14, 2023. The review was updated to contain information about the film's theatrical release.

Joshua John Miller's The Exorcism, which he co-wrote with partner M.A. Fortin, is not your average summer scare-'em-up. Instead, it's a spiky subversion of the possession subgenre, a talky psychological drama starring Russell Crowe as a washed-up actor attempting to make a comeback with a remake of an unnamed exorcism movie — that sure sounds a lot like The Exorcist. Anthony Miller (Crowe) is also trying to reconnect with his queer teen daughter, Lee (Ryan Simpkins). But can Lee forgive him when he seems to be off the wagon yet again? Or is there something far more devilish at work here?

In an interview with Mashable, Fortin and Miller shared about their battle to keep The Exorcism queer, the personal origins that inspired the film, and why they don't believe in the curse of The Exorcist. 

The Exorcism was born from Miller's family legacy. 

Credit: Vertical Entertainment

Exorcism stories are a dime a dozen these days, from the endless Exorcist sequels to Evil's recurring possession plotlines. But if there's a filmmaker who could put a unique spin on the subgenre, it's director Joshua John Miller, who has been steeping in cult cinema since he was in utero.

Miller's father was Jason Miller, who made a splash as Father Karras in The Exorcist and regaled his young son with tales from the set. His mother, Susan Bernard, was a B-movie icon, with starring roles in films like the seminal Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! and fans that include Quentin Tarantino. While Bernard inspired Miller and Fortin's script for 2015's The Final Girls, a deliciously nostalgia-soaked horror comedy that recalls Miller's own experience watching his mom as a scream queen, Jason Miller's legacy proved a pricklier point of inspiration.

As Miller explained, "I think, with this particular story, it's not like The Final Girls ... the relationship with my mom was not as complicated, whereas with my dad, it was far more fraught. And I think in certain ways, his own 'possessions and demons' were a lot darker and a lot harder for him to reconcile."

Although Jason Miller was rightfully lauded by critics and movie lovers for his performance as the harrowed Father Karras, he failed to achieve similar heights when he adapted and directed his own Pulitzer Prize–winning play, That Championship Season, for the big screen. Instead, the elder Miller found refuge in local theater productions. But he appeared in a few movies, including William Peter Blatty's tormented The Exorcist 3, before dying at the relatively young age of 62 in 2001. It is a legacy that's also influenced Joshua's half-brother, Jason Patric, who performed in a Broadway revival of That Championship Season in 2011.

For his part, as a child, Miller appeared in the trippy slasher Halloween III: Season of the Witch and the punkest vampire Western this side of the Pecos, Kathryn Bigelow's Near Dark, in which he played a feral pint-sized fanger named Homer. And, as TikTok won't let us forget, he was also the campy little brother in Teen Witch, a performance, he told Peaches Christ and Michael Varrati in a recent episode of their Midnight Mass podcast, was inspired by Bette Davis in Now, Voyager and Gena Rowlands in A Woman Under the Influence. In an oddly sweet nod to Near Dark, Miller's co-star Adrian Pasdar has a devilishly good pre-credits cameo in The Exorcism.

Turning the tables on the gender roles of possession movies was the way in for Miller and Fortin. 

Credit: Vertical Entertainment

The Exorcist, and many other possession movies over, present a damsel in (devilish) distress, with a man — often a Catholic priest — rushing into save her. However, The Exorcism centers not on Anthony (who can be viewed as a stand-in for Miller's own father) but the character's daughter, Lee Miller (Ryan Simpkins), who is still reeling from the death of her mother — and her father's public fall from grace. Lee's also falling for Anthony's co-star, Blake (Chloe Bailey), who is the stand-in for Linda Blair. Their relationship is sweet and untroubled, and together, the two teens set out to help save Tony from whatever demons he's facing. 

Focusing the story on Lee and Blake was the key for both Miller and Fortin. "The kind of genre that we always gravitated toward was more female-forward," Fortin explained, "Women driving the action, women being the ones trying to figure out their own destiny, women just being the heroes. Possession movies — or at least most possession movies — historically are mostly about female subjugation, women being defenseless creatures." By making their women the center of the story, the collaborators inherently drew on some of Miller's own experiences as a child growing up near the Hollywood spotlight. 

However, pulling from his own life means doing press about the movie can be painful. "I didn't realize what I was getting myself into," Miller said, adding, "Not just the making of a movie — and that Herculean effort — but even just doing press about the movie… Let's talk about your dead father for 12 hours every day. Let's talk about alcoholism for 12 hours every day, you know? Let's talk about addictions; let's talk about all of the sorts of things that you would probably save for your therapist."

Did Joshua John Miller have to confront The Exorcist curse?

Credit: Vertical Entertainment

Almost as old as the 1973 film is the fan theory that it was cursed. Miller doesn't fall prey to those sorts of superstitions. "I don't believe in that stuff," he said, concisely. However, that doesn't mean filmmaking isn't a sort of deal with the devil, in and of itself. 

"What I do believe is that evil exists in people, and I think that making movies is always a complicated game," Miller explained. "In the Hollywood movie system, you're always in strange negotiation with various elements, people who are probably morally compromised. It's just the nature of the world we're in, right? And I think that the only cursed experiences I really had during this —  were with some of the people I had to work with in the process." 

Miller noted he had to battle to keep in the queer love story between Lee and Blake and to maintain the psychological element. He noted there was pressure to turn his film into "a more sort of typical exorcism movie," adding, "These sorts of eternal struggles with a studio were the parts that were the most challenging. Not any kind of woo-woo magical thing happening on the set."

When the conversation turned to the rise of studio-made horror and its flood of remakes, Miller said, "Horror used to be a really transgressive space. It was not commodified by the studio system. It was not run by people looking for money..." 

Here, Fortin interjected, "It was like porn—" 

Miller agreed: "It was taboo. And suddenly what's happened is that some smart people, some also really brilliant, creative people, have found a way to commercialize a queer space, an underground space, a space for the kids outside smoking the cigarettes, doing bad things. And now horror has become this Marvelverse." He lamented horror being dumbed down to go mainstream to "get the most people in," continuing, "It's bullshit, because it's defanged."

Miller yearns for "the B[-movie] element of horror that's dirty and messy and doesn't necessarily work as a whole as well, but it's got cool elements, and then like weird, uncomfortable trauma stuff, like these are the things that kept it queer and strange and off the grid." He concluded, "[Horror cinema has] been commodified and neutered, and like everything in [the film industry], everything's bottom-line — money, money, money, money."

The Exorcism is now streaming on Shudder and available for rent or purchase on Amazon Prime.

UPDATE: Jul. 8, 2024, 3:30 p.m. EDT This article was originally published on June 21, 2024. It has been updated to include information about the film's digital release.

In November 2023, a month after Hamas launched an attack on Israel and war was subsequently unleashed on the people of Palestine, the state of Israel took to Instagram with a widely-shared post. The first picture displays Israeli soldier Yoav Atzmoni posing in front of a tank, holding a rainbow-bordered Israel flag; the second shows the soldier standing amongst the ruins of war, holding a different rainbow flag emblazoned with the handwritten words "in the name of love."

"The first ever pride flag raised in Gaza 🏳️‍🌈," the post was captioned.

These words, and their sentiment, were condemned online for blatant "pinkwashing": a propaganda strategy that "cynically exploits LGBTQIA+ rights to project a progressive image while concealing Israel's occupation and apartheid policies oppressing Palestinians", according to Palestinian-led movement Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS).

This Pride Month, the subject of pinkwashing is being further centered for a reason. Amid the war on Gaza and the ongoing conflict in the Middle East, pinkwashing has been spotlighted as a harmful tactic weaponized against LGBTQ Palestinians — and something for allies to recognize and resist.

The history of pinkwashing and Palestine

In this context, pinkwashing was arguably brought to widespread attention in 2011, when writer and activist Sarah Schulman wrote of its significance in a New York Times editorial that criticized Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's framing of the Middle East as "a region where women are stoned, gays are hanged, Christians are persecuted." Schulman condemned the Israeli government's ongoing campaign that purports Israel as a haven for the queer community, while also "ignor[ing] the existence of Palestinian gay-rights organizations" and queer Palestinians.

Israel, which has played host to several Pride events, has been dubbed on a tourism site for the country as a "welcoming hub that starkly contrasts some of the more religious and restrictive areas in Israel and the surrounding region". Same-sex marriage cannot be legally performed in Israel, but civil unions and marriages performed outside the state are recognized. In Gaza, homosexuality has been outlawed since 1936, and conversations concerning the rights of Palestinian queer community and the need to create lasting social change have staunchly grown over decades.

Efforts to resist pinkwashing seemed to take flight in the 2000s, for several reasons including the launch of Israel's lengthy PR campaign "Brand Israel", which some one scholar described as a way to "portray Israel as a safe-haven for gays and lesbians and Palestine as a regressive, violent and homophobic place." Several op-eds, books, and academic papers have detailed the dangers of this narrative; campaigns to resist have launched over the years, including a prominent call to boycott European song contest Eurovision in 2019, which was based in Tel-Aviv.

Elias Jahshan, journalist, writer, and editor of This Arab Is Queer, describes pinkwashing as "reductive and racist."

"What it does is erase Palestinians stories and agency," Jahshan tells Mashable in an interview. "In its essence, pinkwashing is a hidden form of violence against queer Palestinians. It employs orientalist tropes to show Palestinians as uncivilised, backwards, and homophobic, and it also portrays us as victims of a patriarchal culture. It's dangerous."

Pro-Palestine advocates and organizations have long denounced pinkwashing not only for its underlying, PR-laden rhetoric, but its ability to distract and deflect from atrocities — including the ongoing war. For example, No Pride in Genocide, a coalition of activists, urges action against pinkwashing for its use "by a state or organization to deflect from or legitimize their violence imposed on other countries or communities." Groups like alQaws, BDS, and Jewish Voice for Peace have advocated for resisting the rhetoric that Palestinian and Arab societies are oppressive and archaic when it comes to LGBTQ rights in comparison to Western societies.

In the wake of Hamas' Oct. 7 attack and the escalation of the war on Gaza, pinkwashing has once again been steadily employed by Israel and its supporters as means of justification. Jahsan points to the aforementioned post showing Israeli soldier Atzmoni "holding the rainbow flag amongst the rubble" as a prime example of pinkwashing: "It was really awful. Since when was having a rainbow flag the litmus test for the queer community to be validated?" There are other prominent examples. One social media post by comedian Daniel-Ryan Spaulding went viral for comparing queer solidarity with Palestine to "chickens for KFC"; an Israeli comedy skit show called Eretz Nehederet posted a YouTube video satirizing pro-Palestine activists at Columbia University, waving rainbow-colored flags and supporting "LGBTQH" (in which the "H" stands for Hamas).

Resistance and recognition

This June, social media users, activists, and groups have amplified the subject of pinkwashing as the Palestinian death toll has surpassed 37,000.

On Instagram and X (formerly Twitter), several posts have raised the issue. Amongst these is Slow Factory, a digital nonprofit organization, which detailed examples of pinkwashing amid Pride Month and condemned the weaponization of this tactic. "We refuse this blatant exploitation of identity politics," one caption reads.

Most of these posts push for advocacy and awareness, challenging the purported notion of liberating queer Palestinians and marginalized people with war. As Sarah O’Neal wrote in The Nation, "People are being decapitated in Gaza, not for being queer but for being Palestinian." Many posts on X have denoted the same: that the narrative of pinkwashing should hold no legitimacy, and certainly none during war.

This digital movement, which Jahshan says is "ramping up this year", particularly on Instagram, is both educational and activating. People and organizations posting have asked to recognize the existence of queer love in Palestine, shared resources for resisting propaganda, and raised awareness of Pride events and rallies for a cause.

This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed.

This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed.

"This amount of solidarity this year is very heartening," he says. "Queer Palestinians and allies are spreading the word on pinkwashing and how harmful it is, and how it erases us. People forget that queer Palestinians exist. There is a queer Palestinian community in Gaza – there always has been. They live their lives their own way."

Despite being able to snag a date with a few swipes, dating has arguably never been more complicated. TikTok is abound with hypotheses on how to find one's soulmate like the "meet people twice theory," while strangers might be hitting you up on LinkedIn or Duolingo.

To help cut through the noise, Mashable reached out to apps and experts about what daters can expect for the rest of the year.

Dating low (pressure) and slow

In its latest D.A.T.E. Report, Hinge identified several ways LGBTQ daters in particular can foster greater emotional intimacy — the #1 topic for these daters — and one of them is the "slowmance." The app defines this as dating more consciously by slowing down the pace, as well as establishing boundaries and setting intentions. 

Setting clear intentions has been a dating trend since lockdown ended, likely fostered by literal and figurative existential feelings at the start of the pandemic. Some folks rushed into things because of this as well, but we've seen fast breakups as a result. So, lockdown-era courtship could be here to stay, at least for some people.

One tactic to ease into a slomance is a low pressure date, another element of Hinge's latest D.A.T.E. report, which surveyed over 14,000 LGBTQ Hinge users worldwide. A low pressure date spot isn't a bar, but more like a coffee shop.  

Dropping the dating icks

Dating icks are all the rage on TikTok, but at least some daters are sick of them. In a survey of more than 2,700 U.S. adults aged 18-35 commissioned by Bumble earlier this year, 67 percent believed people need to move past surface-level "icks" and embrace others for who they are.

Icks can be interpreted as "red flags," and in its "Green Flag Study," Tinder found that some people interpret green flags as red ones. There's an "assumptions epidemic," Tinder determined, where both men and women assume what the other wants without getting to know each other.

For example, 53 percent of men want a romantic relationship but think fewer women do, when actually 68 percent of women want the same thing (in a study of 8,000 18-34 year-olds in the U.S., UK, Canada, and Australia commissioned by Tinder). 

It's time to stop seeing a match for their potential red flags or icks, and start seeing them as a person that contains multitudes — just like you.

Moving away from apps

Even dating apps themselves have identified that their users are burnt out. They're trying to help this, like with Bumble's move to let men message first with Opening Move (users have had mixed reactions) and Hinge's unanswered message limit. In an email with Mashable, Tinder said it's addressing dating fatigue with features like Matchmaker.

For some, however, the answer might be to delete the apps. Somatic sex educator and chief education educator at CBD intimate product brand Foria, Kiana Reeves, said one prediction for the rest of 2024 is moving away from dating apps.

"With the dating world now at our fingertips with apps like Tinder, Hinge, Raya, and Bumble, it’s never been easier to connect to romantic suitors. Yet many people I talk to are frustrated and overwhelmed by online dating. Why?" Reeves asked. "While there are benefits to apps like these, one thing that can be challenging is missing out on the senses that typically cue us into attraction."

Sensations like sight, smell, hearing, and touching someone in-person is a better way to assess chemistry, Reeves continued. "Online dating can also leave us feeling burnt out, with lots of short and shallow inquiries that lack the real depth of connection many are looking for."

So, Reeves predicts that this year and in the coming years, IRL dating will come back. Otherwise, she's also noticed a trend of people prioritizing their own well being instead of finding a partner. Especially if they just went through a breakup or other major life change, folks are "dating themselves" instead.

This approach is healthy, Reeves said, because it allowed everyone to home in on what they want and what their expectations are.

"It also gives them time to check in with themselves, and get back in sync with their body and mind before forging a new relationship," said Reeves. "Entering into the dating scene with an assured sense of self can help people feel more confident and make less impulsive decisions based on insecurities or social pressure, which will ultimately lead to a more fulfilling relationship."

Want more of the best of 2024 (so far)? Join Mashable as we look back at all the viral TikTok songs, internet slang, movies, memes, hyped up hardware, scientific discoveries, social media apps, and more that have delighted and amazed us so far this year.

Where are all the LGBTQ people in Star Wars? They exist, but they’re on the periphery, in video games or comic books, like Juhani in Knights of the Old Republic or Doctor Aphra from the Doctor Aphra comics. The closest we’ve come in the live-action Star Wars universe to queer representation is a same-sex kiss hidden in the background of The Rise of Skywalker. 

Despite plenty of real-world evidence that queer people and queer animals exist all over the globe, there aren’t any queer folk in an entire galaxy? That’s absurd when you realize the live-action canon includes 11 films and six series, including The Acolyte. Mercifully, this latest Disney+ series is finally giving space to queer people in the Star Wars universe. 

Episode 3 of the Acolyte is more than token representation. It’s the compelling story of a family of faith that conflicts with the Jedi way of life, leading us to question the motives of the typically magnanimous Jedi Order.

Credit: Lucasfilm Ltd. & TM

Planet Brendok is a sapphic paradise

Episode 3 ushers audiences into the mysterious past of twins Mae and Osha (both played by Amandla Stenberg). Flashing back 16 years to their planet of Brendok, this episode, directed by Kogonada (After Yang), reveals their origin story, including a look at the fiery tragedy that defined both their lives, and particularly why Mae is hellbent on killing four Master Jedi.

At the start, there's a sense of serenity on Planet Brendok. Young Mae and Osha frolic through a vast, lush forest; the bond between sisters is immediately apparent. It’s not long before an exciting reveal: the twins have two moms, Mother Aniseya (Jodi Turner-Smith) and Mother Koril (Margarita Levieva). Wisely, this isn’t treated like a grand reveal, but matter-of-factly in this matriarchal society. Still, the lack of any grandness around this detail is most welcome, as Disney likes to make a big fuss over things that just wind up being a disappointment (remember LeFou, Disney’s "first openly gay character" in the live-action Beauty and the Beast?). 

Aniseya and Koril belong to a coven of witches, a group of women familiar with the ways of the Force but excluded from Jedi life. The reasons aren’t clear yet. But it's evident that the coven, led by Aniseya, greatly values their own traditions, and purposely avoids the Jedi, preferring to live fruitfully off grid. A potent joy infuses these early coven scenes, showing Mae and Osha live in a warm and happy community. Kogonada brings a comforting reverence to these family scenes with a warm, inviting color palette. But with that joy is an underlying fear – both Aniseya and Koril are fearful of their children getting too far out of their sight. What could possibly concern them on such a lovely planet?

The surprising answer? The Jedi. Because both Mae and Osha have the ability to use the Force, the galactic mandate requires them to be trained as Jedi. Their mothers have no intention of letting this happen. The coven has their own methods of of engaging with the Force. And Aniseya is particularly interested in teaching her children how strong they can be when they work together, unlike the typically solitary Jedi.

Credit: Lucasfilm Ltd. & TM

Queerness as a metaphor on Planet Brendok

The mothers parent their daughters with a gentle yet firm hand, leading with love but acknowledging that they’re different as they’re part of an all-women community. As a family, they embrace that difference is something to celebrate, not fear. While they are loving, they recognize the rest of the world doesn’t feel the same way: "The galaxy is not a place that welcomes women like us," Aniseya tells her daughters, justifying why they live a happy, if hidden life, away from the hubbub of the Jedi authority. 

This line from Aniseya, and the episode as a whole, speaks to the experience of some queer people in contemporary society. The increased visibility of queer people around the world comes with a seemingly inevitable backlash in the way of bigotry, hate crimes, and homophobic and transphobic legislation.  This is reflected in The Acolyte: On Brendok, Aniseya and Koril can love and parent as they see fit within a community that embraces and respects them. But the intruding Jedi question their faith, their customs, and even their right to care for their own children. 

Jedi Master Sol (Lee Jung-jae), who begins the episode by lurking in the forest and spying on the twins, immediately asks the coven "Where’s their father?", enforcing the heteronormative structure of the Jedi. 

"They have no father," Aniseya snarls back with pride. The coven is in an impossible situation: fighting the Jedi means certain death, but giving the children over to the Jedi means losing them forever. 

The Jedi are determined to take Osha and Mae from their home to raise them as Jedi. They arrive at a pivotal time for the girls, who are completing a swearing-in ceremony to confirm their commitment to the coven. While Mae is excited and accepts the ritual with open arms, Osha is hesitant, longing for a life beyond the confines of her community. She dreams of being a Jedi. 

This too, is a relatable queer experience – the yearning for a bigger, more exciting life where you can be accepted and embraced for who you truly are. While Osha’s mothers understand her desire to explore the galaxy, their caution comes from lived experience: They understand just how cruel the wider world can be for those who are different.

Credit: Lucasfilm Ltd. & TM

Episode 3 of The Acolyte changes our perception of the Jedi

While the Force has long had an established Dark Side, the Jedi Order is responsible for maintaining a stable and prosperous universe, and has been a source of good in the world since the very beginning. 

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen The Jedi Order act seemingly out of character. In Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Ashoka (who also has her own Disney+ series) was trained in the way of the Jedi. But when she was framed for a crime she didn’t commit, she was put on trial and expelled from the Jedi Order. Though she was eventually acquitted, the incident shattered her illusion of the Order’s righteousness and she no longer saw it as a force for good. After Ahsoka was offered her place back in the Jedi Order, she left to start a life of her own.

While Ahsoka’s incident was largely painted as a case of a few bad people infiltrating an otherwise great organization, The Acolyte takes things further by suggesting that the entire Jedi Order is capable of making disastrous decisions. Jedi are often fueled by the belief that what they’re doing is inherently righteous and for the greater good. An innate belief that your intentions are noble is great in theory, but there’s a hubris that blinds you from seeing the whole picture. 

That’s precisely what we encounter when the four Master Jedi come to Brendok to take Mae and Osha from everything they know. The Jedi say that the twins must be trained in the way of the Jedi, as living among the coven is not the way they should be raised. There is, however, no actual justification for why this is, besides the law. The coven is their family. It’s everything they know, and Mae does not want to be anywhere near the Jedi. But this doesn’t seem to matter to them. Their faith in their Order instills in them that being a Jedi is the best way – even the only way – to properly use the Force. They’ve accepted that fact blindly, disregarding the fallout for families — and whole communities — torn apart by their influence.  

The Acolyte is a bold new direction in Star Wars storytelling, building on previous suggestions in the prequel trilogy that the Jedi Order is out of touch, and in the Clone Wars that the Order can be downright malicious. Acolyte reckons with a bold idea that perhaps the Jedi aren’t always the heroes we thought they were. Using queerness to explore the nuances of good and evil and the Jedi cause only makes it more terrifying — and more impactful.

The Acolyte is now streaming on Disney+, with a new episode every Tuesday at 9 p.m. ET.

It's Pride month, and that means corporations across the world are out in force to stress their commitment to Pride month.

"Pride month is of course that time of year when corporations get together and financially exploit the decades-long struggle of gay people for acceptance and equality," said Jon Stewart during his Daily Show monologue on Monday. "'Hey, remember when you were fired from that bank job after you were outed? Well Burger King does, with a burger that has two bottom buns!' Yeah, that's not a funny make-em-up.

"Scarred by conversion therapy? Skittles is releasing a colourless version of Skittles! Apparently not wanting to confuse gay people with competing rainbows."

Both of those are actual real examples from recent years, and Stewart has plenty more where that came from, moving from Pride to the ways in which corporations tried emphasise their commitments to diversity during the Black Lives Matter protests.

"Let's stop pretending that a corporation can even be woke, or unwoke, or patriotic, or unpatriotic," Stewart concludes. "Let's just let corporations live their truth, as the profit-seeking, Patrick Batemen psychopaths they are."

For 3.5 seasons so far, Bridgerton has been a fertile garden for romantic fantasies — for heterosexual couples.

Still, fans have been yearning to see the beloved Netflix series branch into queer romance, potentially through the irreverent Eloise Bridgerton. Well, while Peneloise isn't happening, and an Eloise/Cressida frenemies to lovers arc might be around the corner with Part 2 of Season 3, Doctor Who dipped into a Bridgerton-inspired episode and didn't make queer audiences wait for representation in Regency-era romance.

That's right, the Doctor found his Diamond of the Season in "Rogue." 

In 1813 Bath, England, posh folk are enjoying a ball, lively with dancing, gossip, and romantic intrigue. But just under the surface of these courtly dramas lurk alien shape-shifters, whose form of Bridgerton cosplay involves murder and body-snatching.

Naturally, the Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) is on the case as soon as he sees a handsome stranger taking in the scene from a strategic vantage point. Enter guest star Jonathan Groff as Rogue. 

The Doctor meets Rogue. 

Ncuti Gatwa and Jonathan Groff play the Doctor and Rogue. Credit: Disney+

Too often, queer audiences are left to scavenge for scraps of representation in mainstream television. This can lead thirsty fans to ship characters who might be arguably queer-coded but aren't confirmed. (Looking at you, Sherlock.) But with the rise of shows like Interview with the Vampire and Our Flag Means Death, queer romance and fantasy are thriving together, and Doctor Who is on board. 

In what Doctor Who guest star Jinkx Monsoon called "the queerest season" of the series yet, we've already seen a nonbinary villain in her Maestro. In "Dot and Bubble," Ruby and the Doctor both had a clear crush on Finetime celeb Ricky September. And in the setup specials from last winter, the Fifteenth Doctor mentioned a "long hot summer with Harry Houdini," that implied this incarnation has queer longings. But "Rogue" gave us an unabashed queer romance with the Doctor at its center. 

Where Bridgerton might be tiptoeing to a same-sex kiss, Doctor Who offers a rousing smooch in this Regency setting, wasting no time. But to the credit of the episodes' writers, Kate Herron and Briony Redman, the Doctor's romantic arc with Rogue follows a familiar pattern. 

Like Kate and Antony in Season 2, these enemies to lovers begin with an attraction but distrust of each other. Suitably, a very Bridgerton version of Billie Eilish's "Bad Guy" plays from an unseen orchestra as they meet cute. From there, banter will be biting but enticing.

Matched wits reflect they're a good pairing. Both are clever outsiders who go by titles over names. "Just the Doctor?" Rogue questions. "Just Rogue?" The Doctor quips. Then — just like that — they go outside together — where they Murder, She Wrote onto the duchess's corpse. which kicks conflict into gear as they openly suspect each other of the crime. But oh how they already finish each other's accusations! 

"This is a murder far beyond the technology of planet Earth. It could only be done by someone brilliant," Rogue begins.

"—And monstrous," the Doctor continues.

Then back and forth: 

"—And ruthless," 

"Contemptible," 

Then together: "You!"

Their conflict will get heated, involving some gunplay, threats, and the Doctor wielding Kylie Minogue's "I Can't Get You Out of My Head" with a lip-synch that is telling: "Boy, your lovin' is all that I think about."

This dizzying conflict collides with sexual tension, sparking shared confidences about lost loved ones and secret hobbies, then ultimately a public quarrel and wedding proposal. Which yeah, those last two were for show — to arouse the interest of the alien invaders. But when it comes time for a grand romantic gesture, what tops kissing your lover before saving his best friend by sacrificing yourself to a dimension-tripping trap? 

In just one episode, Rogue — with his American swagger, besotted gaze, and derring-do — won not only the Doctor's heart, but ours as well. 

Queer representation on and offscreen in Doctor Who. 

Ncuti Gatwa and Jonathan Groff play the Doctor and Rogue. Credit: Disney+

LGBTQ representation on Doctor Who extends behind the scenes. Season 14 has also brought in LGBTQ cast members, including Monsoon, Gatwa, and Groff. Showrunner Russell T Davies, who described himself as "gay as a goose" in Mashable's interview with him, has previously explored queer story lines in drama series like Queer as Folk and It's a Sin, as well as the Doctor Who spinoff series Torchwood, where various characters were LGBTQ, including the antihero Jack Harkness. Regarding queerness in Season 14, Davies said, "It suits Doctor Who, it's an open, progressive, future-looking show." 

To that end, queerness in "Rogue" doesn't get lost in the trauma. While the Doctor and Rogue bond over the pain of losing partners in their time traveling, their time together is chiefly one of joy. They smile. They flirt. They dance — and the world around them falls away as if they are all that matters to each other. They kiss. 

In the climax, Rogue sacrifices himself to rescue Ruby. But first he kisses the Doctor deeply. The music soars as the close-up lingers. This isn't queer-baiting. This isn't writers deigning to give fans shipping material. This is confirmed: The Doctor loves Rogue, and Rogue loves him back — so much so that the bounty hunter takes Ruby's place to save his new love a broken heart. But don't cry for Rogue. He has faith in his man. Tossing the Doctor a bouquet per the wedding tradition to signify who'll get hitched next, he says, "Find me," before disappearing to another unknown dimension. 

Rogue's conclusion is a promise of more queer joy to come. 

Jonathan Groff is Rogue in "Doctor Who." Credit: Disney+

The Doctor's smile vanishes as Rogue drops into the unknown. His eyes glisten with tears. In the final scene of "Rogue," he admits his heartache to Ruby by explaining how impossible it would be to find Rogue again. He then laments, "I don't even know his real name," a remark that is weighted with Doctor Who lore.

But this ending is not as hopeless as it may seem. Rogue is not gone. He's not dead. He's just not yet found. The Doctor has hope, which is made clear by a simple final gesture.

Before the end credits on "Rogue" roll, the Doctor plucks from his pocket the ring that Rogue took off his own finger in their public proposal. He looks at it, at the symbol on its top that seems to resemble the bounty hunter's bird-like ship, and he puts it on his own finger. A promise? An acceptance of the proposal? However you want to read it, the Doctor is choosing to believe in love and Rogue. 

Maybe they're fated to "argue across the stars" yet. 

How to watch: New episodes of Doctor Who drop every Friday night at 7 p.m. ET on Disney+, where available, and simultaneously at midnight on BBC iPlayer in the UK. The season finale airs June 22.

Gay hookup app Grindr is currently on its Grindr Rides America bus tour for Pride Month. In other places around the world, however, the app is far from celebrated — it's banned, sanctioned, or restricted in the App Store. According to digital rights organization Access Now, Grindr is the second-most blocked messaging platform outside of India after Facebook.

In some of the areas where Grindr is banned, you can use a VPN (virtual private network) to access it. VPNs encrypt your internet traffic and data, and mask your real IP address. You can pretend to be browsing from elsewhere in the world using a VPN. Here's where you can and can't access Grindr through a VPN, and how to do so.

Where is Grindr banned?

According to Grindr's website, the app is restricted by the governments of these places:

• Indonesia

• Turkey

• Lebanon

• Qatar 

• Pakistan

• Jordan

• United Arab Emirates

• Malaysia

Grindr is sanctioned — meaning the U.S. government has restricted trade there — and thus the app isn't available in these territories:

• Crimea

• Syria

• North Korea

• Cuba

• Sudan

Finally, Grindr is delisted in the App Store in Saudi Arabia and China.

Where can you use a VPN to access Grindr?

You can access Grindr through a VPN in countries where it is restricted, so the first list. Grindr states on its website that VPNs have been used in these places, but there's no guarantee that they'll work. Also, as Consumer Reports investigative tech reporter Yael Grauer told Mashable in a story about using VPNs to view porn, don't rely on VPNs in severe instances, as these networks can fail.

That being said, if you want to use a VPN to access Grindr in a restricted country, here's how:

How to unblock Grindr with a VPN

It's June, which means we're celebrating Pride while commemorating the 1969 Stonewall Uprising, the gay liberation movement, and all the activists who have stood up for LGTBQ rights before and since. Many businesses misinterpret the June agenda, however, and partake in what's called "rainbow washing" — a practice in which brands display over-exaggerated support for the LGBTQ community starting June 1, but seemingly forget its existence come July. Pride month (and every month) is a great time to support businesses that are actually founded by LGBTQ individuals.

We've rounded up eight of these businesses to shop from in June and every other month on the calendar. Get queer-inspired pillows for your home, uplifting greeting cards, a phone accessory featured on Shark Tank, pet care supplies, and empowerment candles from our faves below:

Boy Smells

Boy Smells is a candle company that moves scents beyond the binary. The LGBTQ-run company was founded by partners in business and life, Matthew Herman and David Kien. The pair created luxe scents that are fluid, fit for anyone regardless of gender. The brand's flagship scent is Hinoki Fantôme, a woody scent of resin, moss, and cardamom, that's available in candle form as well as perfume and room spray.

While the company started with just candles, its line expanded to include perfumes for everyone, calling them "genderful fine fragrance". The scent range is expansive from fruity Italian Kush to earthy Woodphoria. Plus, fans of Kacey Musgraves can enjoy her collaboration with the brand with the candles Slow Burn and Deeper Well.

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Boy Smells

 

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Diaspora Co.

Queerness is at the center of Diaspora Co.'s business. In a manifesto on the brand's site, Diaspora detailed that queerness guides the company's ethos, as it allows them to defy what's expected and live radically and with empathy.

Founded by Sana Javeri Kadri, the spice company brings the highest quality products from India and Sri Lanka and is committed to paying living wages to everyone involved in the supply chain. In their 2022 impact report, Diaspora Co. donated 10 percent of their sales, totaling $22,000, to the Farm Worker's Fund, which benefits the health and lives of farmworkers.

The flagship product from Diaspora is its vibrant and flavorful Pragati Turmeric, but other hits include Chai Masala and Aranya Black Pepper.

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Diaspora Co.

 

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Wildfang

At the forefront of Wildfang is inclusivity. Emma Mcilroy (who now serves as CEO), Taralyn Thuot, and Julia Parsley founded the LGBTQ-owned business, creating clothes free from gender norms. Masculine, feminine, and all that comes in between, Wildfang's stylings are all-encompassing, fit for anyone regardless of gender. The designs are also size inclusive with their line ranging from extra-small to 4XL.

In addition to their all-embracing clothing, which includes suiting and workwear, the brand is committed to giving back to the LGBTQ community. In 2023, they earned a Guinness World Record for hosting the longest drag show at 48 hours and 11 minutes, which also raised over $300,000 for the Trevor Project.

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Wildfang

 

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CTOAN

CTOAN is a candle company started by Jodyann Morgan — a Black and queer entrepreneur — who wanted to see more plus-size, queer, Black, transgender, and other bodies glorified in art. "When I started CTOAN, I was only able to offer candles whose molds I was able to purchase," Morgan told Mashable. "Since then, CTOAN has launched eight original designs, featuring bodies that were impossible to find before we made them. We like folks to be able to determine for themselves which candles they feel best represent them."

Morgan's current creations (which she hand-pours in her own basement!) feature body parts like vulvas, bellies with stretch marks, butts, and boobs. For Pride, Morgan has brought back her signature rainbow-layered candle, a trans flag flower candle, and this year, they're debuting a bisexual flag design.

For every Pride candle sold this month, CTOAN will donate $2 to New Pride Agenda, an organization with a mission to support marginalized LGBTQIA+ individuals in New York State.

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CTOAN

 

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Flipstik

Flipstik's founder, Akeem Shannon, got Snoop Dogg's vote of confidence, signed a deal on Shark Tank, and started mass distribution in retail stores — working to get his product into as many hands as possible. The premise is simple: Flipstik is a phone kickstand with a NASA-tested adhesive, which allows you to mount your phone on any flat surface. You can get it in MagStik (for MagSafe-compatible iPhones), 2.0 (the OG design), and more.

Shannon proudly infuses his identity as a gay, Black man into his company, and Flipstik gives back to organizations like the National LGBT Chamber of Commerce, Minority Health STL, and Big Brothers Big Sisters of America (where Shannon is a mentor). Shannon has a philosophy that he tries to pass on to his customers. "You gotta choose to live for yourself and not for other people," Shannon told Mashable. "And when you do that, you can live your fullest life."

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Flipstik

 

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kin+kind

If you're looking to treat your pooch to natural grooming and wellness products, kin+kind may be the pet care brand for you. From ear cleanser to flea and tick solutions to supplements that ensure Fido has regular bowel movements, kin+kind provides the alternative to traditional pet products with oftentimes unwanted ingredients. In fact, kin+kind has intentionally minimal and transparent ingredient lists (its ear cleanser, for example, consists of only witch hazel, soapbark, tea tree oil, and aloe vera). The company was started by a brother-sister duo and is now run by co-founder Thomas Ling. "What's important for us and what distinguishes us is that we're sulfate-free," Ling told Mashable. "We also lab test on pests, not on pets."

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kin+kind

 

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Ash + Chess

Stationery, shirts, books, and stickers from Ash + Chess are about as perfect for Pride as anything can get. I mean, where else would you find a children's picture book (co-authored by the brand's founders) called ABC-Deconstructing Gender? Or apparel with phrases like "trans people belong here!" and "queer liberation is for everyone" overlaid on groovy patterns and colors? Ash + Chess is the manifested vision of queer/trans couple Ashley Molesso and Chess Needham, who are using their art to uplift the LGBTQ+ community and add joy to people's lives.

You can show your support for queer-owned businesses by buying an Ash + Chess bumper sticker that literally says "I brake for queer-owned businesses" or signature items like their queer tarot deck, MAGA print (which stands for "Make America Gay Again," duh), and more. Molesso and Needham are quick to clarify that they don't make queer art because it's trendy to do so but because they're genuine about wanting to offer the community tangible goods that reflect their identities.

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Ash + Chess

 

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Suay Sew Shop

Suay Sew Shop is an LA-based company dedicated to eliminating the destructive waste generated by the fashion industry by creating products made from post-consumer waste, leftover fabrics, and organic fibers. Besides promoting textile recycling, Suay also supports garment workers and Indigenous communities through food distribution programs and other initiatives. Spearheading these efforts is Suay's CEO and lead designer Lindsay Rose Medoff, who was named one of Time Out's Women of the Year in 2021.

Medoff believes in reversing the industry standard of cutting down labor costs at the expense of laborers — while consistently committing to zero-waste policies. Spice up your life with Suay's clothing collection or a special Pride linen pillow that holds its shape and is soft to the touch. Suay creations also include reusable paper towels, linen napkins, ottomans, and so much more. Something included with every Suay purchase? Peace of mind about where exactly your products are coming from and their effects on the environment.

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Suay Sew Shop

 

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The word "icon" gets thrown around a lot in a pop culture landscape littered with phrases plucked from queer culture. But 78-year-old filmmaker John Waters is undeniably an icon. 

He is as well known for his gleefully provocative movies like Hairspray, Cry-Baby, and Pink Flamingos as his proudly "trashy" personal aesthetic, which includes his eternally slicked-down hair and pencil-thin mustache. So, when you're looking for terrific picks for must-see movies during Pride Month, who better to go to than Waters? (Of course, anything from his filmography is also a great place to start.) 

In Mashable's interview with Waters about the Kino Lorber Blu-ray release of Cry-Baby, we asked him what essential movies he'd like more queer people to see. "Just good cinema. I would say gay is a good start. It's not enough though," he said, before calling out some recent highlights.

"I saw two really good gay films lately: Femme. And I like Love Lies Bleeding. And I like Drive-Away Dolls. So, I saw three good ones. I wish the lesbian bars that I went to were that good!" 

Femme

Written and directed by Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping, Femme is a dark drama about hate crimes, repression, and messy revenge. Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (Culprits, Candyman) stars as Jules, a queer British man who's gruesomely attacked at the corner store when dressed in full drag. Later, Jules runs into one of his attackers, Preston (George MacKay), at a gay sauna; unrecognizable out of drag, Jules seduces Preston. Mashable contributor Jason Adams praised the movie in his review: "What could've been a straight-forward revenge tale, Femme rejects the straight in favor of something fascinatingly messier."

How to watch: Femme is now available to rent or buy on Prime Video.

Love Lies Bleeding

From heralded Saint Maud director Rose Glass, Love Lies Bleeding is a gnarly thriller in which a surly gym manager (Kristen Stewart) falls for a dazzling bodybuilder (Katy O'Brian). But to win their happy ending, they'll have to confront a kingpin (Ed Harris) with a soft voice and a big gun. In my review, I cheered, "As harrowing as it is tender, as horny as it is horrifying, Love Lies Bleeding is one of the best films of 2024." 

How to watch: Love Lies Bleeding is now available to rent or buy on Prime Video.

Drive-Away Dolls

Created by married collaborators Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke, Drive-Away Dolls is a queer action-comedy that drew inspiration from Waters' wilder crime movies, including Pink Flamingos and Female Trouble. Margaret Qualley and Geraldine Viswanathan star as a pair of lesbian besties who go on a road trip that runs them afoul of some dangerous men, all thanks to a suitcase full of special dildos. In our Mashable review, I wrote, "Thrillingly, Drive-Away Dolls is where the Coen Bros. aesthetic and queer cinema collide… [A] joyous romp, stuffed with fun, sex appeal, and stars. What more could we ask for at a night out at the movies?"

Asked what about these movies appealed to Waters, he said, "No, no, no, I'll [expand on] them later. I write a 10-best list every year. We'll see if they're on there. We've got the rest of the year. But I gotta save that for that."

How to watch: Drive-Away Dolls is now streaming on Peacock.

What about Challengers?

Speaking of queer cinema that's earning rave reviews, what does John Waters think of Luca Guadagnino's Challengers, the love triangle/sports drama starring Josh O'Connor, Mike Faist, and Zendaya? "That's the throuple movie, right?" He hasn't seen it yet. "But it's on my list." 

Waters admitted that the reason he hasn't watched Challengers is pretty simple: "It put me off because it's about tennis, something I have no interest in. Like a pickleball sex movie? I wouldn't want to see [that] either."

Looking back on his career, John Waters by his own estimation "started in the underground," then went to independent cinema, "then Hollywood, then Hollywood independents, then crashed right back down to where I am today, Hollywood underground." 

The Baltimore provocateur who shocked audiences with his gleefully depraved, Divine-fronted films like Multiple Maniacs, Pink Flamingos, and Female Trouble found mainstream success with the chipper dance flick Hairspray. That led to his most shocking turn yet: a bidding war over his follow-up film, a '50s-set movie musical called Cry-Baby. 

Starring Johnny Depp as the titular "drape" (an early '50s term for greaser), Cry-Baby followed the Baltimore-rattling romance between the swaggering teen delinquent and his "square" girlfriend Allison Vernon-Williams, played by Amy Locane. As their love heats up, a culture war kicks off, resulting in dance scenes, fist fights, a jail break, and a climactic game of chicken — peppered with rockabilly musical numbers that are as catchy now as they were in 1990, when this retro parody of Elvis Presley movies was released.  

As Kino Lorber Studio Classics readies a 4K UHD + Blu-ray release, Waters spoke with Mashable about Cry-Baby's journey from Hollywood hopeful to box office bomb to relished cult classic. He also shared the lessons he learned about showbiz along the way. 

Hairspray's (perceived) success had studios scrambling to work with John Waters. 

Traci Lords, Johnny Depp, Ricki Lake, Darren E. Burrows, and Kim McGuire as the drapes of "Cry-Baby." Credit: Kino Lorber

"It was right after Hairspray [1988] had come out as a hit," Waters recalled of the interest over his next proposed project, noting, "[It was] not as big as everybody thought, but in LA, all you need is the perception of a hit." Next thing he knew, this underground auteur was pitching Cry-Baby to studio execs, who were showering him in praise. "There was a bidding war, they were sending me clothes, and everything was amazing."

Waters admitted his pitch for Cry-Baby was "not as threatening to them" as his past films, which starred drag queens who relished murder and literal shit-eating, yet he remained as irrepressibly subversive as ever: "I used visuals from gay porn to sell it, but they didn't know that." Pulling Bob Mizer photographs in for the pitch (specifically the ones of "clothed" juvenile delinquents), Waters hooked Universal and producer Brian Grazer. And thanks to Waters having convinced 21 Jump Street dreamboat Johnny Depp to play the lead role — promising him it would complicate his teen idol persona — he was granted a lot of creative freedom in putting together the rest of his ensemble. 

"They let me pick a crazy cast," Waters said. In addition to Depp, that included punk rock star Iggy Pop, former porn performer Traci Lords, Hairspray's ingenue Ricki Lake, and the infamous heiress/kidnapping victim Patty Hearst. However, when it came to test screenings, Waters was in strange new territory.

John Waters on the trials of test screening Cry-Baby

Amy Locane and Johnny Depp play teen lovers in "Cry-Baby." Credit: Kino Lorber

"It was definitely my first real Hollywood experience with test screenings and all that," Waters said, adding, "The very first time we ever had a test screening at Universal, every teenage girl in the audience went crazy, like it was an Elvis Presley movie. But they never did that again, ever, anywhere else." 

Despite the initial frenzied reaction, the studio put a million dollars into a reshoot to make Cry-Baby more commercial. But the film, which Waters recalls having a budget of $11 million, made just $8.2 mil in theaters. By contrast, Depp's follow-up Edward Scissorhands banked about $54 million worldwide. 

Waters has taken some credit for that, noting he showed director Tim Burton dailies for Cry-Baby, which inspired the Edward Scissorhands casting. But in response to his film's flopping, Waters said of the teen girl demographic that had made Depp a star, "They smelled a rat in me. They knew that we were making fun of the genre." 

Waters knew going into a Hollywood production that there'd be compromises, and there were, both over the budget and the theatrical cut. "But it was also how I bought my first house," he rationalized. "So, that's the math question: How much studio involvement do you want? And if you want a house or if you'd rather buy or rent? They go hand in hand." 

Johnny Depp helped Cry-Baby find its audience… eventually. 

Johnny Depp is Cry-Baby. Credit: Kino Lorber

Musing on the film's underwhelming box office performance, Waters said, "We made a very commercial movie, I thought. And I was right in the long run, because it's probably been seen by more people all over the world than any movie I've ever made. Because of Johnny Depp, it continues to play [on TV] constantly. 

'You look back — I don't have any bitterness about anything that happened to me in Hollywood," Waters mused. "They treated me fairly. You have to learn how to negotiate through it. And that was a big lesson."

Despite Cry-Baby being dubbed a dud upon release, Waters found his fans over the decades. "There's so many people that come up to me today and say that's the first of my movies they ever saw when they were 12 and how important it was for them," Waters reflected. That generation of John Waters fan (which includes this writer) didn't necessarily get all of the references to Elvis Presley musicals and Ann-Margret movies, but that was by design.

Basically, you didn't have to be in on the joke to be beguiled by Depp's Cry-Baby. "That's the thing," Waters said. "He is dreamy. And he is a movie star. And he's incredibly sexy. That French-kissing scene is really sexy. I always tell all my actors, the main direction I always give is: Play it completely seriously, like you believe every moment of it. Never wink at the audience. And they didn't. And that way, if you're lucky, it can work on two levels." 

He added that some women even confessed to saving and drinking their tears like Amy Locane's besotted Allison does in the movie. "That's the only scene that [the studio] tried to get me to cut," Waters said, "Because test screenings hated it. But my audiences loved it." 

Waters noted that both Cry-Baby the movie and the Broadway show it inspired, Cry-Baby: The Musical, flopped at the box office. But with the release of the Blu-ray for the former, he has hope for the latter getting a revival of its own. "I believe Cry Baby: The Musical will come back on Broadway and be a hit." 

And why not? John Waters went from underground outsider to Hollywood icon to the Pope of Trash, currently being honored with  his own exhibition at the Academy Museum in Los Angeles. "Today, Pink Flamingos is on Turner Classic Movies," he noted, asking, "How could that be? You don't ever know what's gonna happen, I promise you." 

Cry-Baby comes out for the first time on 4K UHD on May 28. 

SAVE 40%: The Heartstopper box set (books one through four) by Alice Oseman is just $36.24 during the Amazon Book Sale, marked down from the usual price of $59.96. That's a savings of $23.72.

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Heartstopper box set by Alice Oseman (paperback, books 1-4)

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Summer reading list looking a bit slim? Plump it up by adding a four-book illustrated novel series that's also a massive hit on Netflix. Thanks to the Amazon Book Sale, you'll be getting a great deal on the series that's sure to make summer reading thoroughly enjoyable.

As of May 15, the Heartstopper paperback box set (books one through four) by Alice Oseman is just $36.24, marked down from the typical price of $59.96. That's a 40% discount or a savings of $23.72.

What originally started as a webcomic on Tumblr has grown exponentially in recent years. A queer must-watch on Netflix, Heartstopper by Alice Oseman follows the life and relationship of Charlie Spring and Nick Nelson. Both attending Truham Grammar School, the two kindle a relationship that weaves through their experiences in high school, as well as their close-knit group of friends.

Oseman is both the author and illustrator for the Heartstopper books, which first released in 2018. The adaptation into the popular Netflix series has also been a hit, with Mashable editor Shannon Connellan praising both season one and season two in her reviews.

Add some endearing books to your summer reading collection during the Amazon Book Sale by snagging the four-book box set of Heartstopper by Alice Oseman.

If there's anything that undoubtedly unites everyone, it's that we all had terrible sex education in school. Yet, some members of parliament in the United Kingdom are under the impression kids are learning too much. 

In May 2024, reports emerged that the government plans to ban schools in England from teaching sex education to children under age 9.

In March 2024, Conservative member of parliament Andrea Jenkyns said during a parliamentary discussion that she supported a complete ban on sex education in schools. "As a mother of a primary school age child myself, I do not want him or other children to learn about sex full stop, whether that's straight or gay," she said. "I also don't want to see children at primary school being taught about changing gender – we need to be protecting the innocence of children and their childhood, especially at primary school age." 

On social media, Jenkyns' comments have resulted in a mixture of support, opposition, and general concern, with some agreeing with her that sex education is a danger to innocence, and others believing the opposite. Her comments have not occurred in a vacuum. Rather, it's a small part of a widespread moral panic towards sex education that's been brewing in the political arena for the last few years, and the ongoing "trans debate" in the British media is intrinsically linked, often used as the key reasoning to ban sex education in the first place. 

Many members of the government have shared worries for what's being taught in sex education, expressing that there's too much LGBTQ+ content and sexual content, though there's little evidence pointing to a real issue. 

As concern continues to grow for the sex education's future, Mashable analysed the key comments about sex education from the political arena over the last year and spoke to experts to understand the current state of sex education, which improvements really need to be made, and why a lot of the concern over these lessons is misplaced. 

What's inappropriate about sex education?

Concern over what is being taught in sex education has been expressed by politicians and parents alike. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when and why this all started, but it's important to consider the backdrop on which these conversations are happening. 

In 2018, the bill FOSTA-SESTA was passed in the United States, which was designed to help stop trafficking but regrettably doesn't distinguish consensual sex work from trafficking which causes problems for all sexual content on the internet.. And because the bill focuses on the internet, it has impacted users across the world. Though this bill is designed to stop trafficking on the internet, it affects those who are consenting to sex work too, and that loops in just about everyone who talks about sex on the internet. That includes, of course, online sex education.The result: sex information of all kinds is regularly flagged by social media algorithms as sexual solicitation, and sex education online is getting harder to find. 

What's more, "Don't Say Gay" bills have been passed in multiple states in America from Florida to Louisiana which mirror Section 28, prohibiting LGBTQ+ people from expressing themselves fully, and being able to access the education they need in schools. 

It's possible these moves are influencing conversations in the UK. Here, concerns about sex education are less focused on trafficking, though, and instead appear to boil down to a few sensationalised myths: 

• Children are encouraged to be transgender in their sex education classes.

• Children are being sexualised by sex education.

• Learning about sex causes children to lose their innocence.  

Most of these myths were reinforced in Jenkyn's speech, but she's not the only politician to take a stand against sex education in some way. One of the most prominent voices in this debate is member of parliament Miriam Cates. Back in March 2023, she claimed during a parliamentary debate that, during RSE classes, British schools were teaching "graphic lessons on oral sex", lessons in "how to choke your partner safely" and that there are "72 genders". 

Cates then claimed those classes were "age inappropriate, sexualising and undermining of parents" and called for a review of RSE materials in secondary schools, which prime minister Rishi Sunak committed to delivering by the end of 2023. 

The politician didn't provide any direct sources for these claims, and in response, James Bowen, director of policy for the NAHT, the organisation for school administrators, stated they "have found [no proof that] suggests students [are] being exposed to materials that are inappropriate for their age is a widespread issue – if it were, we would anticipate that it would have been addressed on a case-by-case basis." 

Notably, the report also doesn't detail any specific sources for the claim that "safe choking" is being taught in schools. Rather, it includes content from Cliterally the Best, a blog and popular sex positive Instagram account, which isn't currently being used as education content as part of the British RSE curriculum. 

Andrew Hampton, education expert and author of Working with Boys, Creating Cultures of Mutual Respect in Schools believes that, sadly, some of this moral panic could stem from typical classroom strategies for teaching sex education more openly and non-judgmentally, and that this well-meaning practice is being misinterpreted by some politicians. For instance, Cates alleges that children are being taught how to safely choke each other. But Hampton thinks it’s more likely that children are asking about choking unprompted, especially as the sex act becomes more popular in porn and in bedrooms, and that teachers are simply doing their jobs by explaining what it means.

He tells Mashable: "A common strategy in teaching sex education in schools is to have kids shout out words they've heard relating to sex or anything they want to know more about, and then the teacher will write those words on the board and offer further explanation." 

Hampton explains that because there's been a recent rise documented in choking in pornography, on TikTok, and in popular media, it's likely children are asking about it in their sex education classrooms. "So a teacher might explain it, and explain the risks too, if a child asks about it. But it won't be that choking is actually part of the lessons," he says.

But, doubling down on this supposed need to change up RSE, the Secretary of State for Education Gillian Keegan said last October that she had written to schools in England ordering them to make the materials used in children's sex education available to be seen by parents. She warned headteachers there can be "no ifs, no buts, no more excuses" about it. 

The report Sunak organised is not yet complete (or, at least, not available to the public), so there is still no evidence available to suggest any of these accusations are true, while evidence of a moral panic piles up. So, where is this idea that kids are learning too much coming from? Are they learning too much?

Sex education is still falling short 

The short answer is no. It's an odd sentiment to suggest kids could be learning too much beyond their years as relationships and sex education (RSE) as a mandatory subject in schools has only been part of UK legislation as recently as September 2020. 

It's especially inaccurate to suggest children could be learning too much about queer topics, as Cates and Jenkyns seem to believe, since it only became legal for teachers to share advice and learnings for homosexual students in 2003, thanks to Section 28.

Sex education is really only just getting started The same year that sex education became mandatory in the United Kingdom, 58 percent of young people reported not learning enough about certain subjects they found to be important, such as information about pornography, and a survey from 2023 proved students want more their sex education at school to include more 'open discussions' and more information about 'real life sexual scenarios.' 

As for the allegations that sex ed leans too far towards LGBTQ+ topics, a  Terrence Higgins Trust survey of young people aged between 16 and 24 further found that one in seven had not received any sex and relationships education (SRE) during their time at secondary school, with almost two thirds given lessons a maximum of only once a year.

Data from Safe Lives also says LGBTQ+ students feel significantly less comfortable, less confident about where to go for support about relationship or sexual abuse; and a notably smaller proportion have a strong understanding of toxic and healthy relationships. The majority of LGBTQ+ students (61 percent) disagree that LGBT+ relationships are being threaded throughout RSE, even though it's legally required. 

Despite all the evidence that sex education is paramount and needs development, not reduction, Sunak announced Conservative Party's press conference in October that they would work to allow parents to oversee their children's sex education at school, and be able to pull them out of those lessons if they saw fit. While that might seem fair enough to some people, there are myriad reasons why giving parents this kind of control over their children's sexual knowledge is a very bad idea. 

Why parents shouldn't veto their children's sex ed 

Allowing parents to control their children's sex education comes up a lot in the sex education debate, but it comes with a lot of dangers. 

Research from Planned Parenthood found that over 20 percent of parents are not talking to their children about sex at home, and the ones that do speak about it are likely to skip important conversations like consent. So, if children are to be pulled out of school sex education, they're unlikely to get it anywhere else. 

Missing out on RSE has a significant effect on sexual development. Anabelle Knight, certified sex educator at sex toy company Lovehoney, tells Mashable that a lack of sex education in school has a direct consequence of poor sexual behaviour and understanding in adults, particularly in groups that are underrepresented in the teachings. 

She's right — Harvard Medical School found that comprehensive RSE helps to prevent sexual violence, for instance, while another study from the Council of Europe found it generally forms safer and more inclusive communities for children. If that wasn't enough, one study from The Journal of Adolescent Health examined sex education and its effects on children as they develop into adults for an entire three decades, and linked thorough sex education to a better understanding and appreciation of "sexual diversity, dating and intimate partner violence prevention, development of healthy relationships, prevention of child sex abuse and improved social/emotional learning". The study also notes that for the best chances of these social developments occurring, children need to start learning RSE in elementary school (primary school in the UK) and those lessons need to be LGBTQ+ inclusive. 

For example, she explains the LGBTQ+ community has to look elsewhere for the sex information they should have learned in school. "One of the most common – and easily accessible – places to learn about sex is in pornography, which portrays an unrealistic, often male-centric view of sex and intimacy." In short, not being offered sex education in school has drastic consequences on our relationships, including that with ourselves, in later life." 

Knight explains that consent is one of the most important things that people of any age can learn, and arguably the younger the better. "Not only is it important for children to learn that they have autonomy over their own bodies, but also that they must respect others' boundaries," she explains. 

"Teaching children about consent and sexual relationships before they experience them means that they are much better prepared for when they do. In order for anyone to make an informed decision they must first be… informed," she adds.   

Some parents also don't have their children's best interests in mind. Some parents will prioritise their political beliefs over the safety of their children. Some parents are homophobic, and wouldn't be okay with their children being queer of any kind, and may block their children from sex education to stop them from learning about it due to their own ulterior motives. 

It's a difficult reality to reckon with, but some parents also abuse their children. 37 percent of children who undergo child sex abuse experience this from a family member, or a family friend according to the Office of National Statistics.

With all this in mind, Knight says it's vital for children to learn about sex from a professional, regulated, and safe source. Parents are clearly not the right option for this. 

While panic over sex education contents increases, journalist Sophia Smith Galer found in a VICE report that the UK government has only spent half of the £6 million it promised in 2019 to spend on compulsory sex education in schools. This is demonstrative of a lacking sex education, not an overbearing one. Perhaps, instead of focusing on rumours without evidence, we should instead consider the glaring improvements left to be made, what the science says about supporting young people's safe sexual development, and the misplacement of funds in this space. 

UPDATE: May. 15, 2024, 11:15 a.m. CEST Added new government plans to ban sex education for under 9s in schools in England.

Jinkx Monsoon has achieved more dreams than some even dare to have. The fan-adored drag queen has twice won RuPaul’s Drag Race, taking home the crown on both Season 5 and All-Stars Season 7. She's toured the globe with her collaborative bestie BenDeLaCreme with The Jinkx and DeLa Holiday Special, which is now available to rent or buy on Prime Video. And she's stomped the boards, first as Matron "Mama" Morton in Broadway's current iteration of Chicago, and right now as ingenue Audrey in off-Broadway's Little Shop of Horrors. Next, she's taking to all of space and time, joining Doctor Who Season 14 as the melodic and maleficent Maestro. 

So, after all her success, what's it like for Monsoon to get paid to say "timey-wimey," as she does in the episode "The Devil’s Chord"? In an interview with Mashable, she said, "It's really incredible. As a Doctor Who fan myself — and as a big fan of the David Tennant seasons — the fact that 'timey-wimey' was written into my dialogue felt like a special gift from [Season 14 showrunner] Russell [T Davies]. And I loved saying it. I'd say it for free. Getting paid was a bonus."

Jinkx Monsoon joins the Pantheon of Doctor Who foes. 

Credit: Disney+

In "The Devil’s Chord," the Fifteenth Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) and Ruby Sunday (Millie Gibson) face off against Monsoon's Maestro in 1960s England, just as the Beatles are primed to record their debut album. But amid their battles over music and the very future of mankind, the Maestro (who uses they/them pronouns) drops all kinds of tantalizing teasers about their origins. Child of the Toymaker from the Doctor Who special "The Giggle," the Maestro declares themselves part of the Pantheon, noting, "There are vast powers beyond the universe." Then, before being trapped in a piano (but not just any piano!), the Maestro cackles a warning: "The One Who Waits is almost here!" 

What does all this mean? More specifically, how much did Davies reveal to Monsoon about what this foe's cryptic lines refer to? "Just what's pertinent," Monsoon explained over a Zoom interview. "I can tell you, from the experience I have working on sci-fi, nothing has ever been so close-lipped and secretive. And I love that. It's a special challenge as an actor to only have little bits."

But even if Monsoon can't spill the tea on the Maestro's mysterious proclamations, she had plenty of clues to pull from to create the character. "Luckily, Russell's an incredible writer, and everything you need is in the text,” she said, adding that the Maestro’s origins —  which tap into Greek mythology and Lovecraftian horror — gave her plenty to work with.

"I had tropes that I could draw from for inspiration. But essentially, as an actor, if you're worth your salt," she emphasized by affecting a salty dame voice, "You should be able to just get everything you need from the script and infer enough to perform effectively."

And boy, does she. Within "The Devil’s Chord," Monsoon unleashes a performance that proves her a force of nature. As an influence in audacious villainy, she cited Michelle Gomez, whose thrillingly menacing Missy rattled the Twelfth Doctor (Peter Capaldi) from 2014-2017. Then, she celebrated the current cast and crew. "It was just so exciting to work with people who were so game to try so much," Monsoon said, referring to the experimentation that went into choreographing the final music battle. "They do take after take because they too wanted to do it the best they possibly could." 

Jinkx Monsoon looks back on her path from Drag Race to Doctor Who.

Jinkx Monsoon on the set playing the Maestro in "Doctor Who." Credit: Disney+

Reflecting on her work on Doctor Who, Monsoon mused, "When you're working at a certain level, the likelihood that everyone there is there because they want to be — and there because they're passionate about this — is much higher. And when you're in a room full of people who have all set their egos aside to put on the best show possible? I'm experiencing that right now in Little Shop. I experienced it with Chicago and Doctor Who. It is such an honor as a performer to get to work with other people who just really love what they do and want to do it to the best of their ability."

Monsoon has come a long way since the days of muttering the mantra "Water off a duck’s back" while buffering the bullying of Drag Race contenders. Notably, she and Drag Race Season 5 rival Roxxxy Andrews recently "squashed" their beef with a meme-centric Instagram post. So, with so many crowns won and mountains climbed, what's next for Jinkx Monsoon?

"I feel like I can go anywhere now," she said. "Like, I used to feel so limited, because drag was my chosen medium. You know, when I was in acting school, I thought I had to give up drag to be an effective working actor. And that just didn't end up being true for me. Because immediately after college, I was playing female roles in theater."

The transfeminine actor, who publicly came out as trans in 2017, continued, "Some directors just always saw me in me, even before I saw me in me — you know what I mean?... So, I said to myself, 'You don't have to give up drag to be an actor; you can marry the two.'"

Monsoon admitted, "It's been a long journey to do that to the level I've gotten to do it recently. But every step along the way has been fulfilling." A highlight of which she's particularly proud is The Jinkx and DeLa Holiday Special. "I was putting really good work into that as an actor, as a writer, as a creator, as a performer," she explained. "That [pride is] what gave me the mojo that I'm now taking into everything. There's something about creating my own thing that made me feel like no matter what happens in my career, this is something I'm really proud of. And this feels like it's met the goals I wanted to meet as a performer. So it was almost like going into All Stars; I had nothing to lose, because I had everything I had worked towards already."

Since All-Stars, Monsoon counts herself lucky to be offered roles that have "all been a perfect fit," referring to Mama Morton, Audrey, and the Maestro. "I feel like the door is open for me and for other drag entertainers and trans entertainers and visibly queer people to come in and start claiming our space in front of the camera and onstage," Monsoon declared. "We've always been here. We've always been a part of the entertainment community. We've just not been able to be as vocal and as honest as we're getting to be now.

"And honestly," Monsoon said with a smile, "I think with every swing the conservative right takes at us, entertainment goes, 'You know what, we see you, and we raise you the queerest season of Doctor Who you've ever seen!' And really, it's just gonna be incredible. I'm so excited for people to see it. It's such an amazing show. And this new iteration of it is just like, fresh and exciting and so full of potential and possibilities."

How to watch: Doctor Who streams Friday, May 10 at 7:00 p.m. ET on Disney+, where available, and simultaneously on May 11 at midnight on BBC iPlayer in the UK.

A disorienting COVID comedy with plenty on its mind, Stress Positions announces the arrival of filmmaker Theda Hammel as a bold new voice to watch. This is her feature debut both in front of and behind the camera — the director/writer/composer/editor also co-stars alongside comedian John Early — and the result is an intimate New York farce of epic proportions.

Set during the pandemic lockdown in 2020, it follows a group of jaded, white, queer older millennials (and one young Moroccan zoomer) and channels America’s post-9/11 zeitgeist into an uproarious search for authenticity. With repetitive, rapid-fire dialogue reminiscent of screwball comedies, it hammers home its central ideas early on, and with reckless abandon. This leaves a surprising amount of room in its mere 95 minutes for quiet contemplations on identity in the form of old home videos.

It's as reflective as it is self-reflexive, a fun work of autofiction that, while not strictly autobiographical, captures what it feels like to live during (and be defined by) fraught moments in modern American history. Its edges are often frayed, and they become increasingly so as the film goes on — it is, after all, a first-time feature, and bears all the manic hallmarks of novice filmmaking. But its roughness is part of its zany charm.

What is Stress Positions about?

Credit: Courtesy of NEON.

Co-written by Hammel and actor Faheem Ali, Stress Positions follows Terry Goon (Early), a high-strung white gay man looking after his soon-to-be ex-husband's Brooklyn brownstone in 2020, during the initial days of self-quarantine. As a gas-mask-donning Terry participates in early COVID rituals — from sanitizing food and money to banging pots and pans for aid workers — he also looks after his Moroccan nephew Bahlul (Qaher Harhash), a 19-year-old model with a broken leg.

Despite Terry's numerous reminders of "He's my nephew, and he's very badly injured!" (in a forceful, Billy Eichner-esque cadence), salacious news of the alleged boytoy in his basement travels via whisper network. The rumor, at one point, travels through his college friend Karla (Hammel) — a transgender physiotherapist — and her author girlfriend Vanessa (Amy Zimmer), a lesbian couple working through trust issues in their Greenpoint apartment. Thanks to numerous bizarre circumstances, from Terry suffering an unfortunate cooking injury to Karla's fate becoming entwined with a young Afghan American GrubHub driver (Ali), the two friends end up reuniting and catching up over several evenings.

The plot may be sparse, but it's filled with a litany of strange supporting characters — like Terry's upstairs neighbor, the elusive, elderly, seemingly conspiratorial Coco (Rebecca F. Wright) — who add a certain idiosyncrasy to the movie's contours. The real story of Stress Positions, however, is born through its numerous interactions, which arrive with a bustling, distinctly New York energy mixed with COVID-era paranoia.

Nearly every character is flippant with their words, and their dialogue is usually imbued with political subtext, even in the most mundane interactions. For instance, when Karla makes a stray comment about Bahlul being from the Middle East, Bahlul reminds her Morocco isn't part of the region. This simple interaction leads to absurd confusion and insecurity amongst the movie's white characters that reverberates through the narrative as they try to recalibrate their understanding of both Bahlul and the world around them.

Stress Positions is about post-9/11 America.

Credit: Courtesy of NEON.

The film takes its name from CIA torture methods used during the "war on terror," though given Karla's job as a physiotherapist, it takes on a sly (if silly) double meaning about contortion and stress relief. This sort of tension, between personal details and the world’s wider political backdrop, make for some of the film’s most knee-slapping comedic moments.

During the story, she and Terry encounter numerous Muslim workers and proceed to stumble through their interactions with them, like the well-meaning but oafish characters on The Office. They have liberal politics, but like their understanding of the Middle East and North Africa — which are as much geographical areas as they are constructs in the Western consciousness — the characters' own political identities are in flux.

Karla, for instance, has a fleeting interest in men despite identifying as a lesbian, and she insists she's Middle Eastern-adjacent because of her Greek heritage. But what soon becomes clear, in her evening chats with Terry and Bahlul, is just how much modern incarnations of whiteness and Americanness are formed in relation to (and in some ways, in opposition to) a nebulous, villainized Middle Eastern-ness. No character ever puts this idea into words, but the movie is whip-smart in the way it frames idiotic dialogue, and the way it interrogates each politically charged faux pas through lingering, awkward silences.

While voiceover from Karla introduces the story, the narrations soon shift in POV, allowing Bahlul to recount his upbringing with his white mother (Terry's sister), who converted to Islam, and who now exists in snippets of forgotten home videos. Through these segments of recollection, the film slows down and zeroes its focus on the shifting context of Bahlul's ethnic, religious, and sexual identity. The question of his queerness is broached but never fully answered, a lingering tension that draws comical bewilderment from Karla and Terry. As older millennials who came of age in the 2000s and 2010s — when their respective trans and gay identities found mainstream acceptance — they're far more accustomed to definitive labels, and seem intimidated by the fluidity of the forthcoming generation.

For Bahlul, the most reserved of the film's leading trio, the question of who he is in an American context is as political as it is personal. His quiet crisis of identity is subtly exacerbated when the Fourth of July approaches, and star-spangled banners become common decorations. However, neither this nor any of the movie's other loaded, reflective subplots would amount to much were Stress Positions not so deftly crafted too.

Stress Positions is a lightning-in-a-bottle comedy.

Credit: Courtesy of NEON.

Across numerous scenes, characters in Stress Positions question whether Vanessa's book, based on Karla's life, is an authentic reflection of her story or simply borrows it for convenience. This recurring thread invites similar questions about the movie too, but while Vanessa's novel is referred to as disposable, Hammel's work behind the camera is a shot in the arm for the modern New York comedy. It captures feelings of millennial listlessness similar to the Max series Search Party (not the least because they have Early in common). But the film also contrasts this sense of time unfolding infinitely during the pandemic with a wild-eyed, frenetic approach.

The movie's slapstick sensibility — buoyed by hilariously committed work from Early, who pratfalls his way through entire scenes just to answer the doorbell — fills the frame with an effervescent energy. But outside of its immediate context as a joke, each bit of on-screen momentum feels entirely (and intentionally) useless, given the characters' quarantine confines. They could bounce off the walls, and it would have little to no effect on the outside world, until and unless one of the other cast members enters their private bubble.

This not only reflects the restlessness that took hold in early lockdown, but the gloomy, nihilistic outlook of an American generation defined by wars, recession, and ultimately, a pandemic. Every subplot in the movie's peripheral vision, whether Karla's relationship woes or Terry's impending divorce, feels both inevitable and depressingly self-fulfilling, as though the very notion of hope were something surreal or absurd. The film, in this way, verges on a strange kind of magical realism in its moments of self-affirmation (like the act of Bahlul admiring his own body, presented in dreamlike fashion) — moments made all the more perplexing by Hammel's intriguing, percussion-heavy score.

In Stress Positions, up is down, left is right, and who someone is (or purports to be) is ever-shifting, changing with each new bit of social or political context unwittingly introduced into a conversation. It's about the connections between people who, despite believing otherwise, are disconnected from one another and from the world at large, and about how tensions they don't even recognize exacerbate each ridiculous situation. It's a smart movie about dumb people, and a wildly good time.

Stress Positions opens in theaters April 19.

With Drive-Away Dolls, Ethan Coen is happily embracing the "trashy" and "stupid." After decades directing alongside his brother Joel (The Tragedy of Macbeth), he's teamed with long-time Coen Bros collaborator Tricia Cooke, who edited a slew of their films alongside the siblings, including O Brother, Where Art Thou?, The Man Who Wasn't There, and The Big Lebowski. And the result of Cooke and Coen's latest collaboration, which the married couple co-wrote, edited, and directed together, is a gleefully outrageous comedy about sex, death, and dildos.

Bursting with stars like Geraldine Viswanathan, Margaret Qualley, Beanie Feldstein, Matt Damon, and Pedro Pascal, Drive-Away Dolls shares some DNA with the Coen Bros.' best crime comedies. But under Cooke's influence, there's some spicy new terrain to be trekked. This movie is as racy as it is unabashedly entertaining. And yeah, some may call it trashy. But trashy done right can be a treasure.

What's Drive-Away Dolls about? 

Credit: Focus Features

Inspired by Cooke's experiences in lesbian bars in her youth, this 1999-set comedy follows two sapphic besties, uptight Marian (Miracle Workers' Geraldine Viswanathan) and free-spirited Jamie (Sanctuary's Margaret Qualley) on a road trip meant to shake loose the rut that has become their lives. However, what should have been a gleeful getaway peppered with hookups and hot nights becomes intense when they discover they've accidentally crossed a very powerful man (Matt Damon in a surly cameo) and his very violent associates (including Academy Award nominee for Rustin, Colman Domingo). 

Making matters even messier, Jamie's ex Sukie (Beanie Feldstein on fire) is coping with heartbreak through indignation and wrath. So whether or not she'll be a hero or another foe in their journey is a thrilling question that can only be answered outside a lesbian bar with a gun and a dog named Alice B. Toklas. Naturally. 

Like Raising Arizona or The Hudsucker Proxy or The Big Lebowski, Drive-Away Dolls is a tale of good-hearted but naive folks confronted by conspiracy and mayhem they couldn't imagine. But scripted by Coen and Cooke, there's a unique bounciness to the proceedings, which includes a shame-free celebration of sapphic lust. 

Drive-Away Dolls is a giddy queer comedy. 

Credit: Focus Features

Fans of Coen Bros banter will thrill over the dialogue, which offers explosions of peculiar pondering, cheeky rejoinders, and witty wordplay. Garrulous, daffy, and ultimately daring, the dynamic lesbian duo at its center fit perfectly in the wider world of H.I., Marge, and even Anton. Qualley and Viswanathan have terrific chemistry and effervescent comedic timing, which makes their odd couple click from a tossed bag of frozen vegetables. Yet on top of familiar Coen fun, there's a generous slather of bawdy jokes about sex, dildos, and an eccentric historical figure (played here by Grammy-winning provocateur Miley Cyrus). 

Just as O Brother, Where Art Thou? ushered audiences into an Odyssean barrage of Southern settings — some charming, some harrowing — Drive-Away Dolls does the same through the lens of its sapphic heroines. Some sequences are set in rainbow-lit bars with body shots on the menu. Another scene embeds us in a slumber party with a circle of female athletes making a game of making out. Seedy hotel rooms become a recurring respite. And when the pair gets to Florida, they drive under the unblinking eyes of a conservative politician's billboard, to which Jamie warns, "Holy shit, Florida. Lesbian, do not let the sun go down on you here" — an ominous reminder that not all spaces are so safe for girls who love girls. 

Beyond these sexy (and sometimes scary) settings, Cooke and Coen also loop in a love story that is silly but sweet. And for Marian, who struggles to flirt — much less fling herself into casual sex — colorful flashbacks look fondly back on a first crush and bit of peeping-tommery that comes off as more winsome than worrisome. 

Drive-Away Dolls' cast kicks ass. 

Credit: Focus Features

Qualley and Visawathan are a perfect fit for Cooke and Coen's material, nailing not only the sharp dialogue and crisp pacing but also the physical comedy, which includes mad mugging and the occasional kooky O-face. And they are surrounded by an incredible supporting cast. 

Feldstein is ferocious and funny as a snarling cop. Domingo has sneering swagger as a mysterious tough called The Chief. Joey Slotnick and C.J. Wilson offer a rotted version of the Odd Couple dynamic as a pair of goons; respectively, a gregarious pseudo-intellectual and a growling bruiser. Damon's role is short, but it's not the size that matters here, as he makes the most out of every frame, oozing with a nefarious arrogance. Pedro Pascal, internet obsession and Last of Us star, is likewise seen little yet makes a big impact, leaning not only into his skill for broad comedy but also his Game of Thrones past. 

Last but not least, character actor Bill Camp shines as a growling grump named Curlie, who runs the car rental place where misadventure kicks off. With a scruffy exhaustion and pesky peccadillos he's quick and grumbling to unfurl, he fits in instantly with the coterie of quirky American store clerks who are a precious — though often overlooked — element of Coen Bros iconography. While the leading ladies get the most punchlines, Camp makes his small role count by breathing deeply and hilariously as a bone-tired man who is over this romp before it's even begun. 

Drive-Away Dolls is a treat for those seeking saucy fun.

Credit: Focus Features

Thrillingly, Drive-Away Dolls is where the Coen Bros. aesthetic and queer cinema collide, even with only one bro. Teamed with Cooke, Ethan explores the pleasures to be found in a trashy B-movie plot. Unmoored by the pressure to be Oscar material or a big summer blockbuster, this creative team comes up with a comedy that brings fresh dazzle to the underserved subgenre of lesbian laffers. 

Qualley, often dazzling, is an absolute firecracker as a thrill-seeking wild child with a heart of gold. Viswanathan plays the straight man, as it were, grounding the emotional beats and the life-or-death stakes with an alert anxiety. Feldstein walks in Holly Hunter's striding steps, and does so with aplomb. And the rest of the cast positively crackles. 

The jokes are a joy, whether they are born from racing (or racy) repartee, a sultry prop, or a ludicrous plot twist. And overall, there's an exhilarating spontaneity as Cooke and Coen embrace the freedom of a movie that doesn't have to be for everyone.

In the end, Drive-Away Dolls is a joyous romp, stuffed with fun, sex appeal, and stars. What more could we ask for at a night out at the movies? 

Drive-Away Dolls is now streaming on Peacock.

UPDATE: Apr. 12, 2024, 10:00 a.m. EDT Drive-Away Dolls was originally reviewed out its theatrical release on Feb. 23, 2024. The review has been republished tied to its streaming debut.

During a pivotal scene in Strange Way of Life, Pedro Pascal's outlaw Silva reminds Ethan Hawke's Sheriff Jake of a conversation they had 25 years prior: "Years ago, you asked me what two men could do living together on a ranch," Silva whispers. This is both the story crux of Pedro Almodóvar's queer Western short — a tale of former lovers reuniting and reminiscing on the eve of inevitable conflict — as much as it is the film's raison d'être.

A little over two decades ago, Almodóvar had the opportunity to direct Brokeback Mountain — the iconic, tragic drama about two ranchers in love, which was eventually helmed by Ang Lee. But the Spanish maestro declined the project, citing fears that Hollywood wouldn't grant him the freedom necessary to capture two men enraptured by love and "animalistic" lust. His 30-minute cinematic answer, releasing in theaters on Oct. 4, doesn't quite reach the emotional highs of either Lee's Oscar-winning landmark or his own filmography. Often, it seems torn between a hastily truncated feature and an overlong concept short. But despite its unpolished structure and its unwieldy dialogue that tries to bridge dramatic gaps, Almodóvar’s passion for the project is on full display, as is the aforementioned carnality he had once hoped to bring to Brokeback.

What truly sells the film — as a drama in its own right, and as a meta-textual tale of regret — is Hawke's thoughtful, deeply layered performance. His portrayal of Jake proves him once again to be the rare American actor whose career kisses the Hollywood mainstream but who also feels like he belongs to the world of elevated arthouse cinema several oceans away. In Strange Way of Life, which is a Spanish production in the guise of a classic Western, he’s granted the stylistic balance he deserves. This may very well be a career-defining performance, even if the film in question is riddled with imperfections.

Almodóvar sets the mood for his cowboy romance.

Credit: Photo by Nico Bustos. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.

It's hard to avoid the sense that Strange Way of Life leaves much of its story untold. It introduces us to Jake just as he begins to investigate a murder, which occurs off-screen. It’s here that the lone rider Silva intrudes upon his small town, in the hopes of sharing a drink with him. Stilted spoken exchanges fill in the gaps of who and why, awkwardly revealing both men's connection to the case, but these details quickly (if inelegantly) build emotional walls between them. Despite coming face to face for the first time in decades, they barely see eye to eye. Before long, the movie's quiet moments take control, letting its exposition temporarily fade into the backdrop.

With emotional efficiency, Almodóvar weaves an entire world around Jake and Silva, even though the film is confined to a handful of rooms. The frame lingers on details and objects. Jake's bed, his drawer of undergarments that Silva curiously inspects, an old handkerchief of Silva's that Jake held onto as a keepsake are introduced both through isolated shots that highlight their vital importance to the former couple, as well as through fleeting dialogue that hints at why this relationship must remain behind closed doors.

However, Strange Way of Life doesn't harp on the illicit nature of Jake and Silva's romance. That they must remain closeted in the Old West is simply a tragic given — a concrete, unchanging backdrop that introduces new complications for the duo when they find themselves on opposite sides of the law. In the process, the items that Jake and Silva gaze at longingly become physical reminders of the intangible, of a love that may have once been true but can never be fully real.

Ethan Hawke outshines Pedro Pascal in Strange Way of Life.

Credit: El Deseo. Photo by Iglesias Más. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

Strange Way of Life has no qualms about the Wild West being a rough-and-tumble realm of outlaws. Therefore, the physical gentleness shared by Jake and Silva feels like a precious gem, peeking out from the harsh and unforgiving desert sand. Though their confrontations are verbose, both men reveal longing and a sense of unspoken regret through their silences — not only when their gazes meet, but also when they quickly divert their eyes, as if dancing around the specifics of their past is the only way to keep their long-buried heartbreak at bay.

At just 30 minutes long, the short film never has the time to show us what it looks like when all that pain comes rushing to the fore, except for a few moments when Hawke tries to bury it but briefly loses control. Almodóvar's melodrama — with its signature telenovela artifice  — builds but never fully explodes here. Yet Hawke spends all of his screen time approaching that point of irrepressible anger and guilt, letting it guide both Jake’s actions as well as his inactions. His voice grows increasingly hoarse, and increasingly pained, as if Silva's very presence, as a walking reminder of the past, were too much for him to bear. Hawke's work is stunning to behold.

Pascal is by no means a minor player, but sadly, Silva is saddled with the lion's share of the "Hey, remember that time—" dialogue, while Jake is afforded practically all the remembering. Silva's motives are, unfortunately, only clarified in retrospect, so it can be hard to read him the first time around. However, upon revisiting Strange Way of Life a second time, it reveals layers to Pascal's performance that might be unclear upon initial watch. It's a film that obfuscates much of its drama before haphazardly scattering it across the floor like stray LEGO blocks, owing to its limited runtime. But once Pascal begins to pick up the pieces, the film’s emotional mysteries begin clicking into place. 

Despite the truncated length, Hawke and Pascal weave an entire history together through their interactions, their hesitant body language, and their brief but passionate physical rendezvous. Almodóvar and cinematographer José Luis Alcaine's camera captures them unabashedly as aged men attempting to live out both the violent and romantic fantasies of the young. Closeups of heavy eyes tell of life lived, and the wrinkles around them hint at laughs laughed — both together and apart. However, what helps solidify this idea is a peek into the past, in a brief flashback scene that further synthesizes this theme and allows it to be truly felt, rather than merely spoken. 

Strange Way of Life idealizes the past in a haunting way.  

Credit: El Deseo. Photo by Nico Bustos. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.

While Hawke and Pascal play broken men beset by regret, a minor scene set decades in the past sees Jake and Silva played by Jason Fernández and José Condessa. These are young, beautiful men who feel as though they belong on a contemporary catwalk rather than in a Western — a fitting flourish, since the short was co-financed by fashion house Saint Laurent — though the exuberant sheen of this flashback is more than just eye candy.

The scene, which involves the two men, a trio of women, and pistols and wine, is rife with the kind of unbridled sexual passion Almodóvar spoke of when justifying his decision to leave Brokeback Mountain. It's less explicit than Lee's eventual film, but it's arguably more impassioned and intoxicating. It's practically bacchanalian, and it breathes life into Jake and Silva's past in a way their words in the present don't seem to.

This disconnect, between the way words and images paint a picture of the past, does rob the film of its power on occasion — the flashback only takes up a fraction of the half-hour runtime — but this dynamic speaks to the dissonance between how Jake and Silva see their past selves and their lovelorn romance, and the people they have now become. Strange Way of Life is by no means in the same league as Almodóvar’s Pain and Glory, which treads similar territory about regret but with much more poetry and emotional heft. Jake and Silva's words, on the other hand, are clunky, grasping at meaning that never fully coalesces. But the images that depict this past are pristine, making their present predicament all the more melancholy.

In fact, the film's visual language draws us in and out of these flashbacks using both men's close-ups, as if we were witnessing not the subjective memory of either character but a shared fantasy. Here plays a depiction of emotions and physical sensations that they may never be able to recapture. Rather than the memory of any one person, it's the memory of the film itself, harkening back to echoes of what Almodovar might have conceived of years ago, had he made Brokeback Mountain in 2005. This peculiar editing approach frames these images as idealizations of a film that never was and could never be. They exist now only as the fantasies of an older and wiser man — one who perhaps lives with artistic regrets, even if the film doesn’t have the time or bandwidth to fully explore this instinct. 

Strange Way of Life may be slight in its runtime and overall scope, but it features undeniably powerful moments courtesy of its daring performances, as well as its eye toward a likely imperfect past depicted with a sense of impossible perfection. It's the kind of luxuriant filmmaking at which Almodóvar excels, and the kind that makes his brief Western foray so watchable and alluring.

Strange Way of Life is now streaming on Netflix.

UPDATE: Apr. 12, 2024, 9:00 a.m. EDT Strange Way of Life was reviewed out of the New York Film Festival. This review has been rerun for its Netflix debut.

In some ways, Ripley is ruthlessly aligned to Patricia Highsmith's beloved 1955 novel, The Talented Mr. Ripley. Writer/director Steven Zaillian uses the breadth of eight episodes to dive into the details of the antihero's deceptions, laying the groundwork for his dubious backstory, specifying his clever check counterfeiting, and keeping close to the source material when it comes to Ripley's most malicious crimes. But one little detail has been altered in this Netflix miniseries, and it makes a big difference. It's all about a dressing robe. 

For those new to the world of Tom Ripley (All of Us Strangers' Andrew Scott), the new series bearing his name stars Scott as an enterprising American who lives uncomfortably on the fringe of New York's high society. That is, until shipping magnate Herbert Greenleaf inadvertently gives him a way to dig in like a tick.

Greenleaf's 25-year-old heir apparent, Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn), has fluttered off to Italy, where he harbors romantic dreams of becoming a painter. Desperate to get him back to America and invested in the family business, Herbert — believing Tom to be a friend to his prodigal son — offers him a paid trip to Europe with the task of convincing Dickie to come home. But shortly after setting foot on a picturesque (and piping hot) Italian beach, Tom falls hard for this affluent life of leisure — and Dickie Greenleaf himself. Using his wits and flexible moral code, Tom Ripley will do whatever it takes to stay in this cushy social sphere. No one will stand in his way. 

But what does a robe have to do with all this?

Why the robe in Ripley matters.

Credit: Netflix

In both the book and the show, Dickie's mother entreats Tom to take a few gifts for her son with him: Some socks, some shirts, and a robe. In both versions, she's precise on all the objects except for the robe, insisting that Tom — as Dickie's friend — pick a color that would suit her son. In the novel, when Tom presents the robe he's chosen to Dickie in Italy, Highsmith describes the minor event like this, "As Tom had anticipated, Dickie was extremely pleased with the bathrobe."

In the previous chapter, Tom had thought all he desired was for Dickie to like him, so the American playboy approving of his sartorial style here is a feather in his cap, as it were. But in the show, things don't turn out so pleasant. It's not just that Dickie doesn't like the robe — though he doesn't. It's that Zaillian uses Dickie's distaste of it to build a thread in a tapestry of Tom's resentments and feelings of rejection. 

In episode 1, "I: A Good Man Is Hard to Find," Tom obediently rolls into Brooks Brothers to retrieve the ordered clothes. When the snobby clerk notes Mrs. Greenleaf has left the color choice up to Tom, he says, "Oh, I think the maroon." Without hesitation, the clerk corrects him sharply, "The burgundy." Tom blinks and drops his gaze, repeating sheepishly, "Burgundy." 

Ripley is presented in black-and-white, so the viewing audience cannot see this color (maroon or burgundy or not). However, when a wide shot reveals all three potential dressing robes side-by-side, the one Tom's chosen stands out all the same. The other two are striped, mirroring the style of a blazer or business suit perhaps. The third — the burgundy — boasts a loud paisley pattern.

"Are you sure?" The clerk responds, a hint of judgment in his tone. Tom is sure.

Ripley's robe illustrates Tom's otherness. 

Credit: Netflix

This first robe scene is one of many moments in the series in which Tom's taste is called into question. The implication between him not knowing the name of this hue and his choice of the loudest robe suggests he is lowbrow — even by the standards of Brooks Brothers' clerk. But even before this blunder, there are details that show how he stands out among the wealthy: Tom's wrinkled shirt. His hands plunged self-consciously in his jacket's pockets. Then his slight embarrassment at the color correction. He is othered in this moment for failing to meet the aesthetic standards of the high class and for feeling shamed by a shop clerk. (We'll soon learn that even Dickie gets the color wrong, but no one will correct him.)

Episode 2, "II: Seven Mercies," reveals Dickie's reaction to the robe. Looking over the shirts from Mrs. Greenleaf, the dashing young man offers a snide comment, "My mother doesn't seem to realize that the best shirts in New York were imported from here," meaning Italy. Yet for the dressing robe, he reserves a sharper disdain. "Of course she'd choose this one," Dickie says, looking upon the robe while Tom looks upon him expectantly. "Who in the world would ever wear a purple paisley robe? I mean, my god. It's awful." 

In the book, Tom is pleased to know he and Dickie share a similar taste, proven by Dickie's approval of the chosen robe. In the show, Tom looks stricken. It's not just that they don't have the same aesthetic; it's that Dickie's blasé remark unknowingly declares Tom as having terrible taste, as being less than. Yet Dickie calling this robe "purple" is another clue to Zaillian's adaptation. 

Purple has long been a color tied to queer-coding. In the 1950s, when gossip columnists were writing about Hollywood leading men whose homosexuality was an open secret (or a deeply hidden one), they'd use code words like "confirmed bachelor," "dedicated to his mother," and sometimes note a purple flower in his lapel. It seems Zaillian is drawing on these codes of Ripley's time to allude to Tom's own unspoken same-sex yearning for Dickie. Essentially, without realizing it, Dickie is calling Tom out, and not kindly.

Later in the TV series — as he did in the novel — Dickie will confront directly Tom about his presumed queerness — which Tom denies vehemently. Perhaps this robe scene plays into why Tom rejects this label. Dickie isn't sophisticated enough to get the color of the robe right, but he wrote the "purple" robe off as a "awful" thing. Inadvertently, Dickie rejected Tom's hint of who he really is beneath his flattering facade. And the sting of this is clear on Andrew Scott's face, as Johnny Flynn goes on chattering with no apparent notice.

Yet the queer subtext gets more pronounced in the robe's final big moment. 

How the robe seals Freddie Miles' fate.

Credit: Netflix

After their disastrous boat ride, Tom returns to Dickie's villa to pack up the late heir's things. To substantiate his story that Dickie is moving to Rome, Tom — as a bosom buddy — is gathering up his effects. Among Dickie's jewelry and suits, Tom also packs the robe. Later, in "V: Lucio," when unwelcome acquaintance Freddie Miles (Eliot Sumner) barges in, Tom tries to convince him this Roman apartment is Dickie's, not his. But Freddie is suspicious and spots something strange.

Hung on the lone bedroom's door is the paisley robe, a garish trinket amid the marble floors and dark wood furniture. An insert shot draws the audience's attention to it, but Freddie doesn't immediately mention the robe, instead asking for a drink and feeling out this Ripley character.

After making him squirm for a bit, Freddie accuses, "You're living here with [Dickie], aren't you?" When Tom denies this, Freddie counters, "Dickie wouldn't be caught dead in that ghastly robe." Tom doesn't speak, but his eyes grow fierce as if he's fixing on a dark decision. 

In the book, Freddie comes to a similar conclusion of cohabitation, but it has no connection to the robe. (It's a piece of jewelry that triggers Freddie's declaration.) Desperate to keep the real secret of Dickie hidden, Tom kills Freddie in that apartment, and swiftly blames the victim. He decides that Freddie is the kind of man who'd beat someone up for being a "pansy." Highsmith's prose invites the reader into his further internal justification:

"One could loathe Freddie, too. A selfish, stupid bastard who had sneered at one of his best friends — Dickie certainly was one of his best friends — just because he suspected him of sexual deviation. Tom laughed at that phrase, 'sexual deviation.' Where was the sex? Where was the deviation? He looked at Freddie and said low and bitterly, 'Freddie Miles, you're a victim of your own dirty mind.'"

In The Talented Mr. Ripley, Tom doesn't so much grapple with his sexuality as he fiercely runs from it by becoming Dickie over admitting in any real way his complicated feelings for the man. 

How Freddie is different from the book to the Ripley TV show.

In contrast, Ripley doesn't paint Freddie as homophobic, instead implying Freddie and Tom might have queerness in common. In the book, Freddie is described as an ugly "mountain" of a man with red hair. In the series, he's played by the slender Eliot Sumner, whose look is androgynous and suave.

Notably, during their fatal confrontation, Freddie wears a printed scarf that could be deemed "loud" in the same way as the robe. He had a flirtatious energy toward Dickie in earlier episodes and perhaps regards Tom with a pang of surly jealousy. Plus, the naked young man waiting for Freddie in his hotel room further suggests the character's queerness. In the show, Tom exploits the Italian police's presumed homophobia as a tool to suggest Freddie was a debaucherous, unsavory sort, who might wind up murdered because of his lifestyle. In this way, Tom shows to the audience a keen awareness of how gay men were often maligned, even as he uses it to his own selfish means. 

Essentially, in the series, Freddie and Tom as presented as more alike than they are different, down to their flamboyant accessories and the implications of them. This suggests queerness alone might not have led to Tom being cast out of Dickie's circle of friends. However, Tom's queerness is not as important to the character as his deep fear of alienation. One informs the other, certainly, as the supporting characters in the book — and to a lesser degree in the show — regard "sissy" behavior with a sneer. But Tom's driving motivation is his need to be included, and once he is rejected by Dickie, he strives lethally to present himself as a man worthy of inclusion.

Love might seem too foreign a concept to a man who refuses to know himself the way this American tourist does. Tom creates entire fictions for himself to keep from recognizing his own flaws. Beyond Dickie, the embrace of high society is something Tom cons his way into throughout this series. Playing to the egos of the wealthy, he mirrors the interests of his posh prey. He manipulates their emotions by exploiting their vanity. He spins tales to amuse them and make himself seem more a jester than a threat. He seeks validation via party invites, fancy dinners, and day trips. Still, his resentment keeps him at a remove, as do his resulting crimes of theft and murder.

Whether using the name Dickie or Tom, he doesn't let anyone close. Yet he yearns to be seen and coveted — perhaps like a purple paisley robe from Brooks Brothers. 

Ripley is now streaming on Netflix.

The People’s Joker is an intriguing artifact of modern media, with absurd lo-fi stylings that break the mold of modern, mass-produced superhero movies. The story of a trans comedian in Gotham City, Vera Drew’s long-awaited DC Comics parody is rendered with all the flair of a local used car commercial, though it feels like it couldn't have taken any other form. It is, at times, far more ambitious than outright entertaining, but it also bends the boundaries of ostensibly "good" media (see also: studio-polished media) in self-reflexive ways.

The film is also, quite strangely, a semi-autobiography of its author, filtered through a superhero-saturated zeitgeist as a means of both cultural critique and intriguing self-reflection. Some have called The People's Joker "outsider art" — the cinema of the self-taught, which inadvertently strays from convention — but the director appears to have a keen sense of formal control. She seems to intentionally echo the DIY aesthetics of The Amazing Bulk, the self-funded, so-bad-it’s-good Incredible Hulk knockoff filled with obvious green screen and stock CGI that went viral in 2012.

These intentionally flimsy aesthetics are unlikely to attract a wide audience, as are the movie's numerous anti-jokes aimed at intentional awkwardness. But they are ripe for cult-like consumption in an era where cult movies no longer really exist. It's a work that demands better and smarter output from major studios, before providing its own example of just how easy this would be — and drawing corporate ire in the process. The movie, which Vera Drew co-wrote with Bri LeRose, may not always work, but when it does, it works like a charm.

What is The People's Joker about?

Reaching deep into the corners of DC Comics lore (with a number of Warner Bros. superhero movie and Martin Scorsese references to boot), The People's Joker follows our protagonist in flashback, a young trans girl whose deadname is bleeped out through most of the film. At first, this voluntary censorship is both gentle and hilarious, but eventually it leads to an emotional gut punch when the name is spoken out loud. An ethereal framing device clues us in on what's going on, as Joker the Harlequin — played by the director herself — speaks to us from a magic mirror lodged in neon clouds, as she drops deep-cut Batman Easter eggs and insider references to the New York comedy scene with machine-gun pacing. It's as welcoming to general audiences in one scene as it is impenetrable and in-joke-ey in the next.

The young Joker's journey is reminiscent of Clark Kent's; they're both Smallville kids who go to the big city to find themselves. Only in Joker's case, her path to self-affirmation is stand-up comedy at a time when comedy has been made illegal in Gotham. This, too, manifests as yet another paradoxical dichotomy: It takes the form of niche internet references while speaking the language of the mainstream "culture war" with its tongue planted firmly in its cheek. 

Credit: Altered Innocence

After being rejected by the highly corporatized, Saturday Night Live-like United Clown Bureau, aka the UCB (the film has a particular bone to pick with improv institution the Upright Citizens Brigade), Joker teams up with a delightfully verbose and surprisingly encouraging Penguin (Nathan Faustyn) to start an outsider troupe of underground "anti-comedians" to strike at the heart of Gotham's fascist crackdown. It's here that she meets and becomes romantically involved with the elusive Mr. J (Kane Distler), a Joker-esque figure modelled after Jared Leto's incarnation of the character in Suicide Squad, and a trans man who flaunts his top surgery scars without apology. 

This oddball romance draws from the Joker-Harley Quinn dynamic in numerous comics and shows, wherein Mr. J is both welcoming and controlling. But in this case, he also helps Joker the Harlequin, who presents as male until they meet, find herself and come to a better understanding of her own gender identity. The People's Joker may take the form of fan-fiction fantasy, but its tale of transgender self-discovery, and the painful imperfections of even the most life-changing romance, is stunningly true to life. 

Meanwhile, even its seemingly unrealistic elements, like its poorly composited green screen, serve a distinct purpose. As a trans woman figuring out her place in comedy and in the world at large, Joker the Harlequin never feels like she exists in the same physical space as the movie's backdrop. It’s a jarring effect that draws attention to the movie’s flimsy artifice. However, by capturing this disconnect, this sense of dissonance, it casts a spotlight on Joker the Harlequin, and in the process, forces us to not only watch the director's performance, but to truly see her. 

The People's Joker belongs to a bold new wave of trans cinema.

Credit: Altered Innocence

It wouldn't be a stretch to look at The People's Joker alongside Jane Schoenbrun's We're All Going to the World's Fair and the upcoming I Saw the TV Glow and hail (or at least hope for) the emergence of a new transgender cinema that loops back around on itself. From memes and online challenges to the most visible, mainstream film and television, both Vera Drew and Jane Schoenbrun's work taps into the specific millennial experience of being shaped by media, but before the act of finding online communities to bond over these experiences was as easy as it is today.

It's the cinema of the niche internet forum, born from a combination of loneliness and limited access to mirrors, in the form of other people with similar experiences. But as much as The People's Joker is filled with inside jokes, its true feat is balancing its in-group conversations with a unique perspective on mainstream cinema. It's also the cinema of self-reflection via self-projection, playing out like some fantastical fever dream about the way an adolescent Vera Drew might have seen herself in the pages of DC Comics, or in its movies and shows.

Her transformation into Joker the Harlequin — whose look is inspired by Joaquin Phoenix in Joker — also works as a fantastic critique of the modern superhero movie. The People's Joker isn't a parody in the Friedberg and Seltzer sense (the great minds behind Epic Movie and Meet the Spartans), where familiar iconography is both the target of and vehicle for the lowest-hanging fruit. Rather, the film’s parody strikes at the heart of a culture that uncritically embraces a movie like Joker without recognizing what it's missing — a queerness that Joker and other superhero movies don't fully embrace, despite frequent chatter about nominal diversity.

The modern superhero has swung between self-serious (The Dark Knight) and self-effacing (The Avengers), but rarely has it been self-critical enough to embrace the campiness of its source material. I wrote in my review of Joker in 2019 that there was something especially kitsch about Phoenix's performance as he completed his transformation — an effeminacy that seemed to embody society's fears and rejection of queerness. But the film itself never follows through on this. Vera Drew picks up this baton and charges headfirst into a pane of stained glass dedicated to the sanctity of modern superheroes. She is, in effect, making the 2019 Joker movie feel complete; her film is as much a parody as it is a complementary puzzle piece.

However, the movie was nearly prevented from seeing the light of day.

The delayed arrival of The People's Joker.

Credit: Altered Innocence

After its premiere at TIFF in September 2022, subsequent screenings of The People's Joker were pulled from the festival, and from subsequent festivals like Fantastic Fest. The details are muddy, but appear to involve an initial letter from DC Comics owners Warner Bros. Discovery — not technically a cease-and-desist, but something strongly worded — which may have had an inadvertent Streisand effect, propelling the film to heroic underdog status.

Soon, even to those who hadn't yet seen it, The People's Joker wasn't just a parody film but a symbol of mistreatment by powerful conglomerates, despite the movie appearing to fall under fair use according to copyright law. Even without the spotlight shone on the movie thanks to this controversy, it would still have functioned as a critique of corporate IP. Instead, it was transformed into a meta-text in the process. The film is both about, and fully embodies, the notion of artistic freedom.

Perhaps it's more "important" than consistently good — it fails to be funny or engaging for stretches — but its importance can't be understated. Its fictional story is of a closeted trans woman searching for an outlet through artistic expression despite fascist crackdowns and the corporatization of art, just as its journey to the screen is one of a trans filmmaker attempting to express her own story in the face of corporate suppression. As reflected by the malaise at the box office, "superhero fatigue" has inevitably set in for audiences. Yet this meta text reinvigorates the genre, as The People's Joker not only tells a subversive story of fighting the powers that be, but fully embodies that message with its passion for the IP and its utter irreverence for its supposed sanctity. (Deadpool's R-rated snark feels tame next to Joker the Harlequin's.) 

Ironically, Warner Bros.' wariness over Vera Drew's movie has made The People's Joker  all the more powerful. However, this superhero parody is also zany, silly, kitschy, and above all thoughtful enough that it would've likely struck a chord regardless.

The People's Joker is now in theaters.

SXSW's Creative Industry Expo has offered some interesting and WTF tech this year. For us, however, one of the standouts on the floor was Positive+1.

The UK-based social media app, founded by Christian Mercer-Hall, is an online social networking platform that offers sanctuary for those affected by HIV. Positive+1 provides a mix of connection, education, and genuine support that goes beyond the screen.

Launched in November 2023, the app is in its early days. At just over 5,000 users, according to Head of PR Lyle McAdam, the platform is meant to bring together individuals living with HIV, their loved ones, and professionals working within the field. Thus Mercer-Hall's goal is to create a "vibrant and diverse community" built on shared understanding.

The app — eight years in the making — is the first of its kind for those affected by HIV. What makes it unique from other apps for the HIV community is that Positive+1 is a resource center with the connectivity of social networking. According to McAdam, whom I spoke with at SXSW, it's a place where people with HIV and their supporters can meet, share knowledge, find important resources, and make genuine connections with others who get what they're going through.

Education plays a crucial role in the response to HIV. According to KFF (formerly the Kaiser Family Foundation), "approximately 39 million people are currently living with HIV, and tens of millions of people have died of AIDS-related causes since the beginning of the epidemic." However, despite recent medical advancements that make living with HIV possible, there is still a massive stigma surrounding the disease, its risks, and how HIV transmits.

Positive+1 addresses this head-on by providing a plethora of resources. From expert articles to personal narratives of resilience, the platform ensures that knowledge and empowerment go hand in hand. Additionally, the team at Positive+1 has been championed by a network of charity partners, including the San Francisco AIDS Foundation, AIDS United, AHF Pharmacy, Aid for AIDS Nevada (AFAN), and the HIV/AIDS Policy team at The White House.

As stated before, the app recently launched, but it's available now on the App Store and Google Play Store. The app is available globally in the U.S., Australia, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa, and the United Kingdom.

There are movies that grab you by the throat. There are movies that punch you in the gut. Love Lies Bleeding is both, and I fucking love it. 

From the mind of Rose Glass, writer/director of the 2020 stunner Saint Maud, comes a queer romance that's as packed with thrills as it is with raw sensuality and dazzling star power. Come for Kristen Stewart sporting a DIY mullet and a dirty mouth. Come for Katy O'Brian (Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania's scene-stealing warrior princess Jentorra) flexing not only her muscles but her range as a beguiling bodybuilder with a perm as big as her dreams. Come for Ed Harris and Dave Franco in roles both comedic and nerve-rattling. But come. 

Love Lies Bleeding is a gnarly masterpiece, and you're gonna want to see it on a big screen with the best sound system possible. 

What is Love Lies Bleeding about?

Credit: A24

Set in 1980s New Mexico, Love Lies Bleeding centers on the kismet romance of Lou (Kristen Stewart) and Jackie (Katy O'Brian) The two cross paths at a grimy garage gym, the kind where the stink of sweat will never leave the cinderblock walls and cement floor. Handmade signs boast proclamations that "Pain is weakness leaving the body," and "If you believe it, your body can achieve it."

Stewart, who has dazzled on countless red carpets, begins the film elbow-deep in an overloaded toilet. Lou runs the gym, everything from checking in members to closing at night and cleaning the can. In a rundown town, she willingly lives on the fringe, not because she is queer but because she's had a brutal falling-out with her father, local kingpin Lou Sr. (Ed Harris). 

Jackie swans into town as if she's never had a bad day, her smile radiant, her hair bouncy, her muscles glorious. She knows she's a bombshell, and she relishes the attention from gym rats, sketchy would-be employers, and the surly "grade-A dyke" who runs the gym. After a shared glance, and then a shared cigarette, Lou and Jackie rush headlong into sharing more and more of themselves — their bodies, their dreams, and eventually their secrets. Jackie dreams of dominating a bodybuilding competition in Vegas that could change her life for the better. Lou dreams of a world where she doesn’t have to fear for her sister Beth (Jena Malone), who is the devoted punching bag of her abusive husband JJ (Dave Franco).

Their path to these dreams is one thick with violence, impulse, and regret. But the only way out is through. And so in an attempt to save them both from retribution, they must believe in each other and achieve more than they could ever imagine.

Kristen Stewart and Katy O'Brian are mesmerizing together.

Credit: A24

Stewart, who was a child actor in adult fare like The Safety of Objects and Panic Room, found mainstream success via the Twilight franchise, but she's effortlessly swung between arty indies (Personal Shopper, Spencer, Love Me) and glossy studio flicks (Underwater, Happiest Season) throughout her career. In her latest, she wears a sneer of a haircut and a sulking disposition, spitting insults at a world that's only treated her badly. But the moment she and O'Brian share a frame, there's a kinetic transformation, a spark in her eyes reflected in her co-star's. Together, their chemistry is electrifying.

Love Lies Bleeding doesn't shy away from sex. Far from the glossy nonsense that plays to straight male fantasies, their fucking is raw, passionate, even clumsy. Close-ups of hands groping flesh and tearing away panties, dirty talk with lips bitten in response. These smoking hot scenes of sapphic love scoff at the tedious online outrage about sex and cinema. Sure, these scenes are titillating. But more than that, they exhibit the ravenousness of these misfits — their need for a connection to someone who really sees them. And they see each other with a definitely female gaze that recognizes warts and all. Or in this case, much blood, sweat, tears, and goop. 

Love isn't easy here. Melodrama flares up with both characters, grabbing on with a ruthless grip that makes every moment exhilarating. Who needs cardio or therapy when Rose Glass is making movies?

Visceral visual splendor and aural horror. 

Credit: A24

Glass doesn't waste a frame while building her heady aesthetic. Love Lies Bleeding opens at the bottom of a deep canyon, lit red as fresh blood and looking up at a dark blue, star-studded sky. This proves a sign of what's to come; the same red hue colors flashbacks to a horrid memory. The stars twinkle like the light in Jackie’s eyes or the sequins on her competition bikini. A town caked in dirt, Jackie stands out in her pink and shimmery gym gear. Though built to take on any fight, she is a naive innocent in the seamy underbelly of Lou's family. 

The sound effects ripple with sounds of squelching and tearing. The wet amid the desert underlines the catastrophic collision of hard muscles and fragile emotions. Sometimes these squishing sounds give an expressive oomph to a moment of dramatic tension or to a physical transformation. Sometimes it's a gut-churning sound of violence to drive an offscreen blow right to the bone. Saint Maud also boasted a bold and unnerving soundscape and blood-curdling violence. Love Lies Bleeding proves its spiritual sister, not only in disturbing jolts but also in its ardent leap of faith. 

Love Lies Bleeding is a hopeless romantics' tale turned toxic. 

Credit: A24

To follow a stranger home. To move in after one night together. To take on the powers that be. To dream of running away together. Every step of their love is a leap of faith. Though the film stretches into elements of the fantastical, Glass won't let the audience escape the grisly labyrinth of bloody sacrifices made in the name of love. 

Here's where supporting players lend a helping (or hurting) hand. Franco's breezy charm curdles beneath a stringy mullet and uncool dad mustache. Malone's signature sassiness is erased with a dopey broad smile, accented by a split lip and quivering stare. Playing a lovelorn local who'd die for Lou, Anna Baryshnikov (Dickinson) has the air of '60s-era Goldie Hawn on meth — sweet yet savage. Then there's the intoxicating horror of Harris's perturbing patriarch. 

With a long, thinning, gray crescent of hair, he instantly strikes an air of an aging tyrant holding onto flourishes that no longer suit him. Surrounded by bug terrariums and many, many guns, he's an eccentric figure who exudes menace to his underlings, speaking in a low, impatient growl or firing a shot by their heads if he catches them loafing. But in scenes with his daughters, the growl softens — even in the face of Lou's hate. And in this softness, he alludes to a long and complicated relationship, one where cruelty and commendations came with equal intensity. This makes his every syllable one to hang on. Because we, like Lou, know that at any moment the flip my switch. 

In every relationship within Love Lies Bleeding, Glass gives a sense of good and bad, daring audiences to find the line when enough is too much. 

Love Lies Bleeding is a must-see — full-stop.  

Credit: A24

Incredibly among the life-or-death drama, lusty romance, and pulpy action, Love Lies Bleeding is wickedly funny. A moment of carefully planted levity here or lunacy there encourages the audience to revel amid moments of revulsion, reminding us of the couple's dizzying newlywed phase even in their darkest moments.

Weaving together tones this different with such grace, Glass is a marvel. Despite its provocative sex scenes and horrific violence, the most outrageous thing about Love Lies Bleeding might be that it's only her second film. Her confidence and trust in the audience would be laudable even if the film didn't work as well as it does. And it works so hard, the audiences leaves out of breath. 

By giving us leading ladies this enchanting, she makes it impossible not to root for Lou and Jackie, but she doesn’t let us off the hook for falling for them. Instead, she delivers an ending that is fearless, fun, and unforgettable. As harrowing as it is tender, as horny as it is horrifying, Love Lies Bleeding is one of the best films of 2024. 

Love Lies Bleeding opens in limited theatrical release March 8, then expands nationwide March 15.

X, formerly known as Twitter, has already backed off its new policy that discouraged – but did not prohibit – anti-trans hate and harassment against transgender users on the platform, just days after rolling it out.

On Thursday, X updated its "Abuse and Harassment" policy to add a new section called "Use of Prior Names and Pronouns." According to this updated policy, a post would receive reduced visibility if it misgendered a user or used their former name and the targeted user reported the post.

However, over the past 24 hours, this new policy has already been changed. And the update completely alters how the policy is enforced.

Here are the original terms of the new policy, first reported last Thursday:

"We will reduce the visibility of posts that purposefully use different pronouns to address someone other than what that person uses for themselves, or that use a previous name that someone no longer goes by as part of their transition. Given the complexity of determining whether such a violation has occurred, we must always hear from the target to determine if a violation has occurred."

And here are the updated terms of the new policy, with the new wording bold and italicized by Mashable, which appears to have been updated sometime over the past day:

"Where required by local laws, we will reduce the visibility of posts that purposefully use different pronouns to address someone other than what that person uses for themselves, or that use a previous name that someone no longer goes by as part of their transition. Given the complexity of determining whether such a violation has occurred, we must always hear from the target to determine if a violation has occurred."

The addition of those 5 words makes it clear that X will only reduce the visibility of these anti-trans posts if the law of a particular country requires it. This policy will not affect users outside of those countries.

What happened to the new policy?

Before Musk acquired the company, the platform then known as Twitter had a policy in place that specifically prohibited misgendering or dead-naming transgender users. Violating this policy could result in the removal of the offending tweet and suspension of the user who published it. 

A few months after Musk's acquisition, however, this policy was removed entirely. This is why the latest updated policy on "Use of Prior Names and Pronouns" was a notable addition as it seemed that X was reinstating a version of the prior policy.

It's important to note though that the original version of the new policy as it stood last week only discouraged anti-trans harassment. This type of content would only have its reach demoted. For example, the X algorithm would not promote those posts as recommendations to users. It did not prohibit users from spreading anti-trans hate on the platform. Those posts would still be allowed to be published and would not be deleted. The user who posted the content would not be suspended.

However, a number of right-wing users on X, including various conservative commentators and influencers, complained directly to Elon Musk over the past few days about the policy.

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Musk tried to temper concerns, assuring users like Chaya Raichik of the anti-LGBTQ account "Libs of TikTok" that they were "not going to get suspended."

However, Musk was not successful in calming his right-wing fanbase. Influencers like YouTuber Tim Pool soon threatened to stop advertising on the platform over the anti-trans harassment policy.

"I will be terminating all ad spend commitments and verified accounts over X reinstating the misgendering policy," Pool posted.

Musk replied to a few of Pool's complaints, specifically. Musk told Pool he was "fixing" the policy. The X owner then followed up by providing an interpretation of the policy that differed from what was originally written.

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"Turns out this was due to a court judgment in Brazil, which is being appealed, but should not apply outside of Brazil," said Musk.

Now, the official X policy has been changed to line up with what Musk said over the weekend.

X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, just became a slightly safer space for its transgender users – even if Elon Musk would prefer his right-wing fans not pay too much attention to it.

On Thursday, tech news outlet Ars Technica noticed that the Musk-owned social media platform quietly added new rules to its "Abuse and Harassment" policies. Under a newly added section titled "Use of Prior Names and Pronouns," X added policies that protect the site's transgender users from misgendering and dead naming harassment. 

The new X policy reads as follows:

"We will reduce the visibility of posts that purposefully use different pronouns to address someone other than what that person uses for themselves, or that use a previous name that someone no longer goes by as part of their transition. Given the complexity of determining whether such a violation has occurred, we must always hear from the target to determine if a violation has occurred."

Basically, these new rules discourage targeted harassment of individual transgender users by using incorrect pronouns or addressing them by their former name prior to their transition. It should be noted that X is not prohibiting this type of content outright, just making it harder to find. 

These new policies aren't perfect but they are certainly welcome additions to X. GLAAD's senior director of social media safety Jenni Olson told Ars Technica that while the self-reporting mechanism required by the targeted user is not ideal, X's specificity in discouraging anti-trans harassment by explicitly creating rules around deadnaming and misgendering is a step in the right direction. 

Previous transgender protections removed by Musk

This rule change is an uncharacteristic move for the platform under Musk.

X, then known as Twitter, used to have policies in place prohibiting deadnaming and misgendering of users on the platform. 

Those rules read as follows:

"We prohibit targeting others with repeated slurs, tropes or other content that intends to degrade or reinforce negative or harmful stereotypes about a protected category. This includes targeted misgendering or deadnaming of transgender individuals. In some cases, such as (but not limited to) severe, repetitive usage of slurs, or racist/sexist tropes where the context is to harass or intimidate others, we may require Tweet removal. In other cases, such as (but not limited to) moderate, isolated usage where the context is to harass or intimidate others, we may limit Tweet visibility as further described below."

Then, in April of last year, just months after Musk acquired the platform, those anti-trans harassment rules were quietly removed from Twitter's policies.

Further signaling support for the right-wing audience Musk has cultivated over the past few years, the X-owner even went so far as declaring the terms "cisgender" and "cis" to be slurs that sometimes even appear with a warning label on the platform.

Musk receives backlash from the right-wing

X's new rules discouraging harassment of trans users are a bit weaker than the guidelines it had in place last year. Most notable is the fact that these hate posts won't be removed nor will users be suspended for publishing them. X will just limit the visibility of this type of content so fewer users see it in their feeds. 

Also, interestingly, the new policy doesn't use the terms "misgendering" or "deadnaming," even though it does describe what the terms are.

It's unclear exactly why X has somewhat reversed course. Since Musk has taken over X, the company has lost significant advertising revenue due in part to hate speech permeating on the platform. The move to make X a marginally safer place for even more of its users is also a likely move to make it a safer place for advertisers to spend their money.

However, Musk's right-wing fanbase have already voiced their disapproval of these new rules.

For example, the owner of the anti-LGBTQ account "Libs of TikTok" Chaya Raichik tested out the new rules by purposefully misgendering transgender influencers and celebrities in a post and telling users to find her on her other account if she gets suspended over it.

"You're not going to get suspended," Musk replied.

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Raichik responded by complaining that she will still get "shadowbanned" and lose visibility. When Raichik asked why there needed to be a change, Musk said that the new rules were "just about the repeated, targeted harassment of an individual or person."

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But, these assurances from Musk were not enough. Right-wing X users continued to complain that their anti-trans harassment wouldn't be promoted on the platform.

And it appears the right-wing blowback may work, as Musk has already signaled he may relent.

Replying to a user complaining about the new policy leading to "censorship," Musk replied:

"Looking into it."

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As Generation X and elder millennials are tramping into middle age, we look back on our youth achingly aware of how fast some things change. This is particularly true for queer folks in these groups. All of Us Strangers uniquely speaks to this experience through a ghost story that offers humor, heartbreak, and an unapologetic horniness in leading men Paul Mescal and Andrew Scott. But beyond their tear-jerking romance, writer/director Andrew Haigh's adaptation of Taichi Yamada's novel Strangers offers a gift to generations of queer people who grew up in the shadow of the AIDS crisis and so found coming out to our parents difficult, if not impossible.

Set in modern-day England, All of Us Strangers stars Andrew Scott as Adam, a screenwriter who is looking back at his youth for inspiration. Specifically, he focuses on the days before his parents died in a car accident when he was 11 years old. His research includes a journey to his childhood home, which seems to resurrect the ghosts of his parents preserved in that house like mosquitoes in amber.

From there, he gets to know Mum (Claire Foy) and Dad (Jamie Bell) as grown-ups, and they get to know him. And a major part of this exchange is his parents — who remain as they were in the 1980s — realizing that their son is "homosexual."

It's a journey studded with hurt, but its destination is a place many of us aspire to reach. 

How does All of Us Strangers handle coming out?

Claire Foy and Andrew Scott in "All of Us Strangers" tackle coming out. Credit: Searchlight Pictures

As Mum and Dad died before Adam's 12th birthday, this child of the '80s didn't come out to them while they lived — yet there's a sense they know. Upon the family's initial supernatural reunion, queer audiences will recognize some code words in their reminiscing. Mum notes, "You've always been a sensitive boy," evoking the phrase so many parents of that time used to avoid using words like "gay." But when Adam returns later and talks to her alone, she brightly asks if he has a girlfriend. The conversation quickly goes downhill from there.

Adam takes the opportunity to say it outright: "I don't have a girlfriend because I'm not into girls, into women…I'm gay." His mother, previously full of warmth and smiles, is now fidgety and perturbed. She utters phrases that sting queer ears with their familiarity, asking for how long he's been that way and insisting, "You don't look gay." (Adam replies kindly, "I don’t know what that means.") With a sharp tone, she asks if he wants to be married and then huffs over the very idea, "Isn’t that like having your cake and eating it?" She also trots out the age-old fear tactic: "They say it's a very lonely kind of life."  

"They don't say that anymore," Adam says, visibly annoyed but trying to comfort her as she practically shrieks over AIDs without even saying the word, referring to "this awful ghastly disease." Adam gently but firmly defends himself, but he's wounded. Especially when he asks if she'd ever suspected, and she answers, "What parent wants to think that about their child? No parent I know." 

It's not the last thing she'll say, but it's among the most cutting. He’s visibly shaken by his mother's fear. Then, she practically kicks him out of the house, but not before offering him some flapjacks to go. She is still his Mum after all, can't let him go hungry.

Dad jokes and gender norms trip up Adam. 

Jamie Bell plays Dad in "All of Us Strangers." Credit: Searchlight Pictures

Next comes Dad, who’s already been told by Mum. So when Adam visits again, his father is ready, offering dad jokes about how he always knew the boy was "a bit tooty fruity" because he "couldn't throw a ball for shit."

But their heart-to-heart gets serious when Dad admits he figured Adam was being bullied because he could hear the boy cry in his room after school. After 30 years, Adam tells his father about the abuse he endured in school for being the "sensitive" boy. And he challenges Dad, "Why didn’t you come into my room if you heard me crying?" 

Andrew Scott's delivery of this line is edged with anger, though his voice is soft. There's a raw need just below his calm surface, begging to understand and to be understood by the father who made him self-conscious about his masculinity, chiding him to not "cross his legs like a lady" when he sits down. 

Enforcing such gender norms may have seemed minor or helpful to our parents, but many LGBTQ people can recall the jolt of crossing a line they didn't know existed. The confusion it sparked could fester into shame and self-loathing for failing to fit in the box our parents put before us. And in this conversation, the surge of those feelings comes back for Adam and for us.

Then comes a moment shocking in its simplicity. Dad drops the jokes that are his shield against emotional honesty and says, "I didn’t want to think of you as the kind of boy that other lads picked on. I knew that if I was at your school, I’d have probably picked on you too."

It's a shocking revelation. Yet Jamie Bell delivers these lines not with disgust or scorn but a casual resignation, as if this father is realizing the truth as he says it. As their conversation continues, the recognition of how he failed his son weighs on him, literally dragging him down into the pose of The Thinker. Adam tries to comfort him, by recalling "good memories too." But Dad tears up, offering, "I’m sorry I never came into your room when I heard you crying." 

How many of us get to experience this moment in real life? This emotional honesty from a parent, recognizing where they failed us? Some parents may take years to reach such an epiphany. Some die first. Dad did. And yet Adam is gifted solace, which he shares with us. When Dad asks for a hug — the same man who earlier chided affection between father and son as "poofy" — we can practically feel the warmth of that embrace.

All of Us Strangers offers forgiveness. 

Jamie Bell, Andrew Scott, and Claire Foy play a family in "All of Us Strangers." Credit: Searchlight Pictures

Mum's apology will come on their next visit, when the family decorates the Christmas tree like they did on their last night living together. They listen to the Pet Shop Boys' cover of "Always on My Mind," and Mum sings along, looking meaningfully at Adam. 

"And maybe I didn't hold you / All those lonely, lonely times / And I guess I never told you / I’m so happy that you're mine / If I made you feel second best / I’m so sorry I was blind..." 

Without a word, he forgives her. That night, he will curl into their bed as if he is 11 again, adored and accepted. But this time, they know who he is. Not just gay, but grown and lonely and creative and sensitive and forgiving. And through these visits, he knows them not just as Dad and Mum but as grown-ups just as complicated and confused and flawed as he is. But this is not their ending.

All of Us Strangers offers a farewell to remember. 

Jamie Bell, Andrew Scott, and Claire Foy say goodbye in "All of Us Strangers." Credit: Searchlight Pictures

Realizing their time together is coming to a close, Andrew’s parents say the things we yearn to hear. In their final visit, they urge him to pursue love. But moreover, Dad proclaims, "I will say that getting to know you has made us very proud...You've got through it, some very tough times, I'm sure. And you're still here. That’s what we're proud of."

Adam is not a massive success in his career. He doesn't have a spouse and kids and a big house in the suburbs. He hasn't achieved the perfect picture his suburban parents had in mind for him. But he's still standing. His parents see him now, and they love him in his imperfection, in his incompleteness, in his figuring it out. This might be the kind of proclamation some straight dads can only have on their deathbed. Here, it's had in a tacky America-themed restaurant. And yet it is perfectly cathartic. We cry with Adam as his parents fade away, not only because they're gone but because we got to know them and see them know him. It's a treasure that feels like it is ours too. 

Admittedly, this is only half of the story in All of Us Strangers. The other half is the electrifying love story between Adam and his younger, lusty neighbor Harry (a scorching Paul Mescal). But one informs the other. Now able to believe his parents know and love him, he is ready to open himself to the love of another without reservation. But no love is perfect; all relationships are messy. I could go on for another thousand words about the thrills of this particular gay love story. ("I found you!") But maybe even more than queer audiences yearn for a sexy romance between Mescal and Scott, we year for the catharsis this film's bittersweet final act offers. 

Director Andrew Haigh on the set of "All of Us Strangers." Credit: Searchlight Pictures

All of Us Strangers feels deeply personal in every moment. Scott plays the part of Adam shorn of the cocky bravado he had as Fleabag's Hot Priest or as Sherlock's menacing Moriarty. He's so nakedly vulnerable onscreen that it feels almost rude to watch him here. Haigh's own experiences not only breathe life into the domestic dialogue, but he even shot the film in his actual childhood home. Perhaps that adds to the magic of those scenes with Dad and Mum.  

Overall, the arc from queer-coded words to coming out to hurt and healing is extraordinary in All of Us Strangers. Andrew Scott and Andrew Haigh take us by the hand and guide us through the hard moments, the cutting dad jokes, and beyond — to a parent recognizing their own fallibility. The apologies that follow may seem insufficient if you explained it to a friend over brunch. But in that moment, in that song, in that hug, you know you're speaking the same language. It's as real and undeniable as the blood you share. 

Some of us don't get this far with our parents, or if we do, it takes years or even decades. All of Us Strangers gives us this journey through a handful of visits and under two hours. The agony and ecstasy of it hits with equal measure. So, even though its ending may not be straightforwardly happy, it feels like a glorious queer victory. 

All of Us Strangers is now streaming on Hulu.

A new app has just dropped for seekers of LGBTQ-owned businesses, queer-friendly artists and advisors, and inclusive community spaces — or for supporters seeking a tangible way to defy the current political tide. Launched by Everywhere is Queer, an LGBTQ business directory that gained popularity in 2022, it's Yelp for the queer-led revolution. 

The just-released Everywhere is Queer app provides on-the-go discoverability to users and LGBTQ-owned businesses around the world, although the majority of spots exist in the continental U.S. It's simple to navigate, consistently updated, and, most importantly, a living, digital document of Queer community. 

When users make a profile and log on, they're greeted with a map filled with small green markers, and if they've enable location services, it'll start finding LGBTQ-owned spaces immediately. The canopy of location markers can be filtered by dozens of business categories and narrowed down by zip code or neighborhood. There's a separate tab where you can browse online-only businesses, and another that organizes listings that you've favorited. 

Credit: Everywhere is Queer

Credit: Everywhere is Queer

The app is part of a larger network of LGBTQ-focused resource hubs in the spirit of the community's legacy of mutual aid and support. Others like Everywhere is Queer include OutCare, a directory and advocacy organization for LGBTQ-friendly healthcare providers, and LGBTQ-focused job boards, like Queer Outdoors, which was designed by environmentalist drag queen Pattie Gonia and data architect and performer Red Fong. 

Mashable first spoke to Sprinkman in 2022, not long after the initial version of Everywhere is Queer launched. The early website — a community-organized directory of queer-owned businesses using Google Maps software and a Google entry form — was a fledgling coding project started by Sprinkman, following a summer traveling around the country and working at an LGBTQ leadership camp.

Since then, Sprinkman has moved from the smaller city of Bend, Oregon to Portland and Everywhere is Queer has continued to grow. As of January, the directory had nearly 9,000 business entries, and the number of business categories has more than doubled. Everywhere is Queer has added therapists, legal and financial support, tattoo artists and queer events, and categories that aren't necessarily profit-driven, like queer-serving community groups. 

"It's your queer pickleball groups, your queer chess clubs, your queer you-name-it. Queer people are amazing. There's groups for everything," Sprinkman said of the app's variety.

The tight-knit community of thousands of LGBTQ users and supporters carried over from the initial buzz generated in 2022 has followed Sprinkman from TikTok, to Instagram, to desktop site, and now to an app. The Everywhere is Queer Instagram page has more than 140,000 organic followers, which, Sprinkman is proud to point out, is impressive for having not done a single paid advertisement for the site. Nor, they reiterated, are they venture capital-backed.  

Everywhere is Queer has also built out it's blog and an accompanying newsletter. Sprinkman's started traveling around the country to meet, interview, and spotlight these businesses. But, all in all, the endeavor is still a small operation, with only Sprinkman and three other "employees" handling operations, one being Sprinkman's partner, the other a part-time administrative assistant, and most recently a contracted web developer, Chris Redrich. 

Sprinkman made the decision to go full time as Everywhere is Queer founder and untitled CEO in Oct. 2023, timed exactly with the first announcement that the site was developing an app. "EIQ isn’t me. It’s US," they wrote at the time. "I am helping facilitate this project, but it’s YOU telling your friends about it and supporting queer people that is making the change."

They've been hyping up the app's release ever since, posting across Everywhere is Queer's social media pages in the hopes that the constant buzz will encourage a swell of community engagement. Sprinkman is even incentivizing businesses, followers, and influencers to get on the promotion train with easy-to-download launch posts and events. Around 1,000 supporters agreed to share the news at the time of the app's launch. 

"It's queer and trans and allied individuals that want to find these queer spaces wherever they are in the world," they explained.

The app is one part natural progression of a mapping endeavor that could only sustain itself on Google's free APIs for so long, another part future business plan, following an escalation of businesses reaching out to Everywhere is Queer for paid promotion opportunities. 

"I always wanted to develop an app that would make it more accessible for small businesses to promote their business to the [Everywhere is Queer] audience," Sprinkman explained. But the first step was to tear everything down, including the old Google spreadsheet-based map, and build it back up in the new vision of Everywhere is Queer. Fortunately, community came in clutch again. Sprinkman was contacted last summer by a queer, LA-based developer who offered to help enable the site to go mobile, later contracted by Sprinkman's partner for a small fee, and the group has been busy designing the app ever since. 

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"I have to be honest, Chris is the most amazing developer I have ever worked with in my life," Sprinkman said. "If people are reading this, do not steal him from me. In one week of us having a conversation, he had the bones of the app already built and ready to go. It's been a little team, the three of us, coming together."

After a completely new back-end site was designed to accommodate the new app, Sprinkman and team set out to contact every single business (at that stage, around 6,000 accounts) to build a new profile that would be directly imported into the app. Businesses can still apply to be added to the list, which continue to be updated as the app rolls out.

While the app serves the community first and foremost, Sprinkman also sees it as a potential income-generator that will sustain the Everywhere is Queer directory. "Businesses are going to be able to become a founding supporter and have a premium listing in-app for less than $50 a month at the start," they explained. These featured businesses get priority placement in the map's list tab, and they'll maintain a "founding supporter" badge on their business page forever. 

Credit: Everywhere is Queer

Credit: Everywhere is Queer

"This app is my path to monetization, to grow Everywhere is Queer into a business," said Sprinkman. "What I really like about it is that I have control over the app. It's my app. I get to do what I want. I don't have control over the algorithm on social media, and I don't love that. I don't want to rely on social media partnerships to run my business. I also want to be able to really partner with brands that I align with." 

Just version one of the app, Sprinkman sees future branding expansions with LGBTQ-supportive companies, and a possible subscription service that could offer monthly Zoom calls with business owners. But they always want to keep the fundamental service — a community search tool for queer spaces — free. 

"If we can bring the traffic to the app, have dedicated users, and then have thousands  of businesses have a premium listing and be seen and supported by queer and allied and trans people — this is a win, win, win, win, win, win, win, win, win, win!" 

In an era of ongoing concerns about data privacy, especially for marginalized communities, Everywhere is Queer has also pledged to protect its users. "I understand as a queer person how hard it is to be a queer person," Sprinkman said of finding safe digital spaces. "We're updating our privacy policy to let everyone know that we're not ever selling your data or giving your data to anyone. We also want people to make an account, as a little bit of a safety measure. It's one way of trying to keep this app in the hands of the right people, because you do have to give us your information."

What has truly sustained the Everywhere is Queer business over the last two-ish years is the daily positive feedback the pocket-sized team gets. They describe constant messages from people who have found their next inclusive barber or gender-affirming doctor and its radiating effect on their lives. "It's those little experiences that queer and trans people deserve."

"Everywhere is Queer is not just Charlie," said Sprinkman. "This is thousands, hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people that are seeking community. To every person that shares my platform, I say you're helping other people. You're not just helping me, you're not helping yourself, you're helping other queer and trans people to feel seen and heard."

Everywhere is Queer is available to download for both iOS and Android.

Lyft's pledge to protect women and nonbinary riders will be tested nationwide today (Feb. 13), as the app announces its Women+ Connect safety feature is expanding to users across the country.

Women+ Connect is an opt-in setting for women and nonbinary riders that asks the app to prioritize matches with women and nonbinary drivers. It was designed in collaboration with the Human Rights Campaign, the sexual assault prevention campaign It's On Us, the National Association of Women Law Enforcement Executives (NAWLEE), and the National Sheriffs' Association Traffic Safety Committee.

Lyft first debuted the gender-specific safety preference in September, announcing a limited release in Chicago, Phoenix, San Diego, San Francisco, and San Jose. The Women+ Connect feature will now be available to even more Lyft users across the country, including in major cities like New York City, Los Angeles, Washington D.C., Miami, Las Vegas, and Dallas.

Since its initial release, more than 7 million eligible riders have turned on the feature, Lyft reports. More than half of eligible women and nonbinary drivers are opted in to Women+ Connect, as well, and the company reports that these drivers keep the feature on for 99 percent of their driving time. Lyft says it has the highest satisfaction rate among drivers of any feature they've launched to date.

Lyft's introduction of Women+ Connect, and other safety tools like Smart Trip check-in and location sharing, are in response to cries for additional security from both drivers and riders.

"Lyft is rolling out an inclusive product at a time when so many companies are shying away from explicit inclusion of transgender and nonbinary people," wrote Jay Brown, chief of staff for the Human Rights Campaign, at the time of the Women+ Connect's release. "Women+ Connect was built with intentionality to make rideshare better for women and nonbinary riders. When rideshare is better for these folks, it's better for everyone, and we at HRC stand behind that."

To opt-in to Women+ Connect, visit the app's safety tools housed under account settings. Riders may also be prompted with a pop-up window upon opening the app — simply select "count me in" to use Women+ Connect.

Queer New York TikTok was in an uproar recently over an incident at Cubbyhole, a famous lesbian bar in Manhattan. The conflict — between straight people and a lesbian — has sparked discourse over who belongs in queer spaces.

As what usually happens with interpersonal problems aired out online, one party made a video about their side of the story, causing another to step in and give additional context. The former is TikTokker Lexi Stout, a straight woman who went to Cubbyhole after a lesbian friend invited her. A straight male friend then came and joined them. According to Stout in a TikTok posted in late January, a stranger (lesbian) came up to him and asked what he was doing there.

"As a straight woman in a gay bar, and also a straight woman who goes to a male gay bar," Stout said, "I've never felt like that before." She described feeling uncomfortable — especially because gay men were at Cubbyhole — and at the end of the video asked if straight men are allowed at gay bars. The TikTok, titled "My First Lesbian Bar," has over a million views and 8,000 comments at the time of publication.

In early February, the stranger stitched Stout's video with a response. @im.that.lesbian, identified by Gothamist as Katie Pypes, posted that she was "that lesbian" from Cubbyhole, and stated her side of the ordeal. Mashable has reached out to Stout for comment.

Pypes was waiting for the bathroom and the straight man was in the way, she said. Since he seemed "grumpy," she asked if he was with anyone; he pointed at his friend. Later, he asked if he wasn't here with anyone if it would be a problem, and Pypes said yes. The group of friends — including Stout and the man — started "coming at" Pypes, who said she wanted nothing to do with straight people which is why she was at Cubbyhole in the first place.

Pypes said that she's seen straight men come into queer spaces, like Cubbyhole and Henrietta Hudson, another lesbian bar, as well as famed gay bar the Stonewall Inn, to pick up women. The ask was a safety check, Pypes said.

"If you're going into a queer space, you should be respectful of that, and you should keep in mind that there are very limited spaces especially for lesbians and queer women where we can feel safe," Pypes said. She then mentioned and tagged the Lesbian Bar Project, which supports and amplifies lesbian spaces. That video has nearly four million views and 10,000 comments at the time of publication.

We don't know exactly how this particular situation went down, as we're going off of Stout's and Pypes's recollections, but the court of public opinion is siding with Pypes. I'm inclined to as well. One reason is certainly the dwindling number of spaces dedicated to queer women that Pypes identified. According to the Lesbian Bar Project's homepage, there were around 200 lesbian bars in the U.S. in 1980; now there are fewer than 30. If you're in Brooklyn you may know that a few bars that cater to queer women have blessedly popped up recently — like The Bush and Mary's Bar — but reaching '80s levels is going to be an uphill climb, especially outside of New York.

Stout's video raises the question of why straight people want to be in our spaces at all. Because of the good music? Because it's a novelty? (Recall Stout's video title of "My First Lesbian Bar," as if it's some exotic experience.) Because, at least for straight women, they don't have to worry about straight guys creepily trolling the dance floor for the next person to dry hump? (At this rate of straight guys entering lesbian bars, they will have to worry.)

There are no "rules" that say straight people aren't allowed in gay bars (which is a question Stout asked in her video), but there's no doubt queer spaces are by and for queer people. They're meant to be places where queer people can feel safe and meet others like them. They're places where they can be authentically themselves surrounded by their own community. Straight people may visit, but it's queer people who are the regulars.

Pypes told Mashable over TikTok message that she hopes there can be an understanding of the importance of having safe spaces for the queer community. "There have been so many stories shared similar to mine," she continued, "and it really highlights how widespread this problem is for queer women."

What Pypes described here, as well as in the video — straight men going into queer spaces purposefully to hit on women — is exactly the type of interaction these spaces are meant to protect people from.

"He's probably never gonna go back there again because it really wasn't worth the drama," Stout said of the straight male friend. Good!

UPDATE: Feb. 12, 2024, 5:32 p.m. EST This article has been updated to add a comment from Katie Pypes.

Modern relationships continually evolve. Many of us are shaping our relationships in non-traditional ways, moulding them to suit our personal preferences, desires, goals and situations rather than adapting ourselves to traditional relationship styles. For some people, this looks like polyamory or open relationships. For others, it might look like a queer platonic relationship (QPR), also known as a queer platonic partnership (QPP).

We spoke to two sex and relationships experts to understand what queer platonic partnerships are, what they involve, who typically enters this type of relationship, and the pros and cons. 

What is a queer platonic partner?

Sex educator Erica Smith says a queer platonic partner is someone that you have a close intimate relationship with, and choose to do things together that are typically done by romantic partners: sharing a home, sharing responsibilities, considering each other to be family, maybe even raising children together. But the relationships are not romantic, and sometimes not sexual either. 

"Often, people who consider themselves asexual or aromantic are in queer platonic relationships," Smith says. Though, other queer people may decide to enter these types of partnerships too.

What are the benefits to having a queer platonic partner?

For many people, being part of a queer platonic relationship involves companionship, family, support, love, and "someone to share all the big life things including expenses with," according to Smith. 

Rebecca Alvarez Story, a sexologist and co-founder of sexual wellness brand Bloomi, adds that as society is evolving and starting to recognise and value different relationships, people are realising that there aren't one-size-fits-all connections and are open to new experiences. Queer platonic partnerships provide space for all kinds of love and emotions just as a romantic relationship would. Sometimes that kind of love even serves them better, as there is less pressure.  

Smith also notes that affordability might affect someone's decision to enter a relationship like this. "So many people can't afford rent or a mortgage these days, but being in partnership with someone makes things like housing more accessible. Some queer platonic partners may even choose to marry for the legal and financial benefits. In the U.S., this includes health insurance," she explains. 

Alvarez Story notes that the current cost of living crises in the UK, U.S., and Europe will contribute to this even more so. "The increasing cost of living and a need for the everyday benefits of a life partnership and community, such as co-parenting and financial sharing, might lead people to a queer platonic relationship." This is especially true if someone finds themselves needing two incomes in a household to fulfill their life but are uninterested in pursuing sex or romance, such as asexual or aromantic people. 

"After the COVID period, we have all gotten reminded of just how important socialising and having a reliable person nearby is, as well," she adds. 

Why are more people entering queer platonic relationships?

It's hard to track exactly how many people are in queer platonic relationships, and it should probably stay that way (do we really need that much surveillance in our intimate relationships?) but it seems like they're on the increase. 

A quick scroll through your For You page on TikTok reveals a number of sweet stories of friends marrying without romantic love or sexual attraction in order to buy a house and raise children together, and we also see examples on our screens. Many look to Hannah and Elijah in HBO's Girls as the purest example of an attempted queer platonic relationship, as the two LGBTQ+ characters agree to raise Hannah's child together in the home they already cohabit, and frequently sleep in the same bed and cuddle, as romantic partners would, for comfort. Some even look to Marlin and Dory from Pixar's Finding Nemo, who many suggest are queer-coded in their platonic cohabiting and raising of Nemo. 

Smith says that more people, especially young people, are increasingly defining partnership for themselves outside the small boxes that have been presented to them. This is why you may have seen more queer platonic partnerships popping up lately on your Instagram feed, or portrayed in the media. 

After all, why do we elevate romantic relationships above all other relationship structures? We know there have been societal and governmental incentives to be in monogamous marriage for centuries — but it's 2024, and the way we look at partnership is finally shifting. 

"Queer platonic partners challenge conventional ideas of what partnership is, and I think this is so appealing," Smith says. 

Are QPRs just for people who can't find 'real' love?

There may be an assumption that those who have queer platonic relationships do so because they can't find a "real" relationship, but this isn't always the case. Some people have actively chosen to be part of a queer platonic relationship when traditional partners or relationships were available to them. 

But Alvarez Story says this is very much a misconception. "Often those who identify as asexual or aromantic may be interested in engaging in queer platonic relationships. But, sometimes, people simply like the person and want to explore a deeper friendship that's different from any other relationships they had in the past," she says. 

Queer platonic relationships don't have specific rules and partners involved and those participating get to decide on how they want to engage and what type of commitment they are willing to have, so they're a great fit for anyone who feels constrained by a more traditional relationship style. For a lot of people, shacking up with a friend is the definition of freedom. 

Really, the choice to pursue friendship that looks a lot like a cohabiting relationship over "the real thing" shouldn't come as a surprise. Internet discourse (and probably most real-life conversations too) has been rife with a shared disappointment with modern dating lately.  2021 research from Hinge shows 61 percent of the app's UK users feel overwhelmed and fatigued when it comes to dating. Scroll through the "dating" search on X to see how visceral this exhaustion is. "Dating is actually a sick and twisted game," writes one user. "This dating era is horrible," writes another. 

With so many of us feeling this tired, unhappy, and even depressed about dating, is it any wonder why some of us would rather commit to a life with a friend we love, trust, and feel confident we won't tire of? 

For some people, a queer platonic relationship doesn't rule out sex or romantic love anyway. Some people in these set-ups will continue to date or have sex casually outside of the partnership, much like any open relationship. 

The only reason anyone looks down on this type of relationship, according to Smith, is because society has elevated romantic partnerships as the most important kind of relationship there is, and "that kind of thinking runs deep!"

Are there any cons involved with a queer platonic relationship?

Smith notes that queer platonic relationships aren't really legally recognised unless you have chosen to get married just as two people who are in love might, so this is something to keep in mind before pursuing a queer platonic relationship. 

Additionally, Alvarez Story warns that sometimes queer platonic relationships can result in one-sided romantic feelings. "It might be that one partner develops deeper romantic aspirations or sexual desire towards their partner and this isn't mutual. There can be jealousy and sadness if one partner engages in some type of relationship on the side." 

She adds that, in these cases, a partner might be bothered by other relationships (no matter whether there are any deeper romantic and/or sexual aspirations involved) in the way that there's less time one can dedicate to their queer platonic partner. 

For this reason, it's important to make sure the two of you are 100 percent on the same page when entering a partnership of this nature, and that you stay open, communicative and honest in case feelings develop or change.

Just like any other relationship, a queer platonic partnership doesn't have to be the be-all-or-end-all. As long as everyone involved is open and on the same page, you can try this type of partnership to see if it's right for you and your pal. You might find it's everything you ever dreamed of, or you might find yourself re-downloading the apps, or a bit of both. 

Condragulations are in order, as RuPaul's Drag Race adds another Emmy to its glittering, heaving cabinet of well-earned awards.

Drag Race took home Best Reality Competition Program at this year's Emmys, beating The Amazing Race, Survivor, Top Chef, and The Voice — it's the fifth win for the show in this category. Drag Race now has a whopping 29 Emmys and 63 nominations, and it's the eighth consecutive win for RuPaul as host, making him the most awarded host in Emmy’s history and the record-holder for most wins by a person of colour.

Accepting the award on behalf of the Drag Race team alongside fellow judges Michelle Visage, Carson Kressley, and Ross Mathews, RuPaul took a moment to champion children's library events like Drag Story Hour that encourage diversity, creativity, and education, and which have been ludicrously and harmfully targeted by the far-right and conspiracy theorists.

“We are so honored to have this award," RuPaul said onstage. "Listen, you guys are just pure lovely for honouring our show and recognizing all these queens. We have released into the wild hundreds of drag queens and they're beautiful. On behalf of all them, we thank you.

"If a drag queen wants to read you a story at a library, listen to her because knowledge is power and if someone tries to restrict your access to power, they are trying to scare you, so listen to a drag queen."

According to GLAAD, there were 161 protests and attacks on drag events in 2022 in the U.S. — including library events like Drag Story Hour — and the organisation also examined the weaponising of these events by "extremist politicians" to propose drag bans.

"GLAAD reviewed legislative proposals in six states that aim to restrict or ban drag. In most cases, extremist politicians pointed to local drag events as the motivation for new legislation that would ban public drag performances such as those that take place at Pride festivals, or ban minors from observing drag performers, including library events such as Drag Story Hour."

What is Drag Story Hour? Created by Michelle Tea and RADAR Productions in San Francisco in 2015 and having seen spinoffs across the world, it's best described by the team themselves:

"It’s just what it sounds like! Storytellers using the art of drag to read books to kids in libraries, schools, and bookstores. DSH captures the imagination and play of the gender fluidity of childhood and gives kids glamorous, positive, and unabashedly queer role models."

Sign. Us. Up. If you want to book an event (in the U.S.), check out the website.

What do "Padam Padam," Heartstopper, and "These gays, they're trying to murder me" have in common?

They're all major moments in 2023's Grindr Unwrapped.

Move over, Spotify Wrapped. It's Grindr's time to unwrap. Literally.

The app app for gay, bi, trans, and queer people surveyed more than 10,000 users on their favourite pop culture moments of 2023, and analysed anonymous activity data from its 13 million monthly users worldwide.

The Gay Gasp of the Year was voted Troye Sivan’s drag in the "One of Your Girls" video.

Users voted "Padam Padam" by Kylie Minogue as Song of the Year, and her album Tension was also voted Album of the Year. Heartstopper was named Show of the Year, while Greta Gerwig's Barbie was voted Movie of the Year.

Biggest IJBOL (I just burst out laughing) of the Year? Jennifer Coolidge as pleading for her life with "These gays, they’re trying to murder me" in the White Lotus. Special mention to "Gimme One Margarita, I’ma Open My Legs," which came in at number two, Timothée Chalamet as Wonka at number three, "Angela Bassett did the thing" at number four, and the M3GAN dance at number five.

The Biggest Babygirl of the year? Why, Harry Styles of course! Followed in close second by Pedro Pascal, and 3rd by Jacob Elordi. That's so babygirl of them.

Beyoncé was voted Mother of the Year. Mother was most certainly Mothering.

Henry Cavill was deemed Hottest Man of the Year, while Kim Petras winning a Grammy was named as the biggest LGBTQ win of the year.

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Grindr Unwrapped also revealed some juicy insights about its users. Sunday at 6 p.m. was found to be the most active day and time on the app. And London was Grindr's most explored city.

👀 was the most popular emoji.

Trinidad and Tobago has the highest percentage of tops, while South Korea had the largest number of bottoms. Finland reigned supreme with the biggest number of vers, Singapore had the most sides, Ireland had the most femme tops, and France had the most hung bottoms.

It's certainly been quite the year!

With the 2024 presidential election is just a year away, advocates are doing everything they can do bring attention to the country's most pressing social justice issues. Today, national LGBTQ youth organization the Trevor Project announced it is leaving X (formerly Twitter) amid growing anti-LGBTQ sentiment, both online and off.

"LGBTQ young people — and in particular, trans and nonbinary young people — have been unfairly targeted in recent years, and that can negatively impact their mental health. In 2023, hundreds of anti-LGBTQ bills have been introduced in states across the country, which can send the message that LGBTQ people are not deserving of love or respect. We have seen this rhetoric transcend politics and appear on social media platforms," the Trevor Project said in a statement.

On Nov. 9, the organization posted the following message on its page:

The Trevor Project has made the decision to close its account on X given the increasing hate & vitriol on the platform targeting the LGBTQ community — the group we exist to serve. LGBTQ young people are regularly victimized at the expense of their mental health, and X's removal of certain moderation functions makes it more difficult for us to create a welcoming space for them on this platform. This decision was made with input from dozens of internal and external perspectives; in particular, we questioned whether leaving the platform would allow harmful narratives and rhetoric to prevail with one less voice to challenge them. Upon deep analysis, we've concluded that suspending our account is the right thing to do.

A 2023 survey of LGBTQ teens conducted by the Trevor Project found that discrimination and online hate contributes to higher rates of suicide risk reported by LGBTQ young people.

In June, GLAAD marked X as the least safe social media platform for LGBTQ users in its annual analysis of online safety, known as the Social Media Safety index. The report cites continued regressive policies, including the removal of protections for transgender users, and remarks by X CEO Elon Musk as factors in creating a "dangerous environment" for LGBTQ Americans.

In April, a coalition of LGBTQ resource centers nationwide formally left the platform in response to the removal of hateful conduct protections for both LGBTQ and BIPOC users, saying in a joint statement: "2023 is on pace to be a record-setting year for state legislation targeting LGBTQ adults and youth. Now is a time to lift up the voices of those who are most vulnerable and most marginalized, and to take a stand against those whose actions are quite the opposite."

Protections for the LGBTQ community and reproductive health access are expected to be a flashpoint in the upcoming election cycle, especially amid Republican candidates. At the same time, social media platforms and the online spaces they create, are facing a growing call to address the rise of hate-filled content and misinformation — now exacerbated by astonishing rise of generative AI tools — that disproportionately affect marginalized communities.

The Trevor Project directs any LGBTQ young people looking for a safe space online to its social networking site TrevorSpace.org or its Instagram, TikTok, LinkedIn, and Facebook accounts: "No online space is perfect, but having access to sufficient moderation capabilities is essential to maintaining a safer space for our community."

Anal sex, especially when you’re bottoming, can feel like a game of Russian roulette.

Actually, the same can be said for all kinds of sex. Our guard is down and really, we're at our most vulnerable: we're naked, turned on, eager to please, and there's a risk that whatever we're doing just won't work. But for a bottom — the person in the receptive role during anal sex — the stakes feel higher, with a lot of us left feeling like we're groping around in the dark (both literally and figuratively).

How painful is it going to be? Should I not eat before? For how long? What if I have an 'accident'? These are the questions bottoms have asked themselves (or googled on the sly) at one point. Many of us have had to rely on trial and error over the years to figure out best practice — that is, until now. TikTok has become the hub for bottoms wanting to learn more about anal sex, how to enjoy it, and most importantly, how to practise it safely. But this begs an even bigger question: why were we never taught about it?

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In the UK, the answer lies within the decades-long erasure of LGBTQ people from school curricula, and most notably the implementation of Section 28 in 1988. The legislation, enacted by Margaret Thatcher’s government to "prohibit the promotion of homosexuality" by local councils, banned the positive depiction of LGBTQ identities and relationships in classrooms, libraries, and extracurricular clubs for 15 years until it was repealed in 2003. However Lisa Hallgarten, head of policy and affairs at Brook, a charity specialising in the sexual health and wellbeing of young people in the UK, says the problem didn’t end there.

"Section 28 not only created a complete silencing at the time but for years afterwards," she explains. Hallgarten argues the legislation's legacy has left today's teachers still feeling anxious to talk about LGBTQ sex. "They're much more comfortable talking about heteronormative forms of sex because it's focused on reproduction," she says. "They're not trained to talk about pleasure or any other form of sex different couples might have."

Dr Carlton Thomas made his first TikTok about bottoming in the summer of 2020. As the coronavirus pandemic escalated around the world, TikTok was busy taking over the lives of his teenage children at home in San Diego. A gastroenterologist for 17 years, the 49-year-old saw an opportunity amongst the Megan Thee Stallion dance routines and banana bread recipes (remember those?) to share his expertise. "I'm a gay man and a butt doctor, and there's this huge lack of anal sex education out there," he says. "Who better to teach it than someone with professional and personal experience of how things work?"

Since then, he’s amassed nearly 250,000 followers on Gen Z’s favourite platform by covering a range of anal sex-related topics — from advice on how to avoid bleeding, douching (his most popular video, a guide to using store-bought enemas, has 1.6 million views), kegel exercises, tips for maximum pleasure as well as information about HIV prevention. 

Citing the absence of gay sex education from his own childhood as the motivation behind starting the account, Thomas tells me that throughout medical school and his gastrointestinal doctor training, anal sex was never mentioned. "I had a lot of questions, so I did my own research to get the answers," he says. The success of his videos, which regularly receive tens of thousands of likes, confirms that others around the world have been searching for these answers too. "People want to know how to do anal sex right, how to do it well, and how to do it safely," he explains.

But Thomas isn't the only face of TikTok’s bottom positivity movement. Alex Hall, a 29-year-old graphic designer, was living in New York when he came up with the idea of The Bottom’s Digest, a cooking channel sharing "bottom-friendly" recipes inspired by the Texan and Cajun cuisine he was brought up on. The rising cost of meat in the city paired with Hall's growing sensitivity to dairy led him to a mostly plant-based diet, which he says provides a number of benefits for bottoming. "What we eat is such a big part of how our sex is going to go," he tells me. 

Now living in Texas and running the account with his husband Mike, Hall has spent years searching far and wide for the best (or should I say cleanest) bottoming fuel. "What I did find would be so obvious...a salad. I hate salad!" he exclaims. "Sex and food are two of life's great pleasures and our community really deprives themselves of one to enjoy the other, and we shouldn't." Whether it's alfredo pasta, mac and cheese, or meatballs, Hall's comfort food recipes are high in fiber and low in FODMAP (short for fermentable oligosaccharides, disaccharides, monosaccharides, and polyols — essentially sugars that can cause intestinal distress), which makes them perfect for bottoms eager to avoid bloating, diarrhea, and constipation. 

Daniel O’Shaughnessy, nutritionist and author of Naked Nutrition: An LGBTQ+ Guide to Diet and Lifestyle, notes that the perfect bottoming diet varies by individual. "As a general rule a bottom needs fiber when it comes to anal sex," he says. He advises increasing fiber intake slowly to avoid excess wind and to avoid insoluble fibers (which can be high in FODMAP, think cauliflower, legumes, and some whole grains) at least 24 hours before the big moment. O’Shaughnessy's other recommendations for bottoming nutrition include fermented foods (such as kimchi and kombucha) for improved gut health, avoiding dairy products, and chewing food properly for digestion.

Hall tests his bottom-friendly recipes himself, then runs them past a group of 10 drag queens. 24 hours later, the queens report back about whether they felt bloated, and if they did bottom, how it went. "So many people have had heartache trying to find information like this so it’s important these recipes actually work," he adds.

Aside from the occasional troll, the response to both accounts has been overwhelmingly positive. Thomas' followers regularly credit him with revolutionising their sex lives in his comments, but he says the real impact of his videos can be found in his DMs. Gay men living in countries where homosexuality is illegal — and sometimes where it's punishable by death, like in Saudi Arabia and Iran — message him "at least once a week" for advice.

The bottom community on TikTok isn't exclusively for gay men, either. For Hall, cis and trans women make up almost half of his following. But whenever our society talks about sex, it’s heterosexual, penis-in-vagina sex that has always been the default: it’s compulsory to teach in schools, we read about it in the advice columns of magazines and websites, it's what we read about in erotic novels, and watch (or awkwardly avoid watching when accompanied by family) in our favourite TV shows and films. The only representation we really see of anal sex onscreen is when it's relegated to cheap homophobic jokes.

Thankfully, the tide appears to be turning. TikTok’s bottoming hashtag has over 10.4 million views and is brimming with honest experiences and advice from bottoms all over the world. Accounts like Thomas' and The Bottom's Digest are normalising these once shame-ridden conversations while providing an education to bottoms who can't find information in more conventional places. 

But these creators, for all their hard work, are facing censorship from TikTok itself. While the platform bans videos featuring nudity and sexually explicit content, creators across the field are having their content removed and their reach suppressed for even mentioning the word 'sex' in their TikToks, despite the platform’s community guidelines stating that educational content is an exception to the rules. Thomas says he has to be selective with what he posts, often resorting to codewords and innuendos in his videos to avoid being censored.

This censorship is problematic, says Hallgarten from Brook, especially for the people whose only access to information about sex is through social media. She's curious about the criteria TikTok uses for judging and removing videos, and whether expert organisations have been involved in the process. "The way they approach sex needs to be more nuanced and there has to be a clear set of values that underpin the decisions being made," she says. When it comes to sex ed videos that haven't been removed from the platform, Hallgarten urges users to check how the information they see on TikTok compares to that of trusted sources like Brook. If COVID-19 has taught us anything it's that misinformation on social media is rife. Hallgarten suggests platforms could easily add a box to videos featuring sex content directing users to expert organisations, like TikTok and other platforms have (eventually) done with mentions of the coronavirus.

A spokesperson for TikTok said that users can appeal the platform's decisions to remove their content or suspend their accounts if they believe no violation of the community guidelines has occurred. They also noted that TikTok's content moderation practice is detailed in the quarterly enforcement reports it publishes. But while these reports gloat statistics, for example that 90 percent of videos flagged for "adult nudity and sexual activity" are removed within 24 hours of being posted, they fail to explain how educational videos about sex are distinguished from the potentially harmful videos which are banned.

Information on anal sex shouldn’t be reduced to folklore. Bottoms deserve to feel empowered to take control of the sex they have, and a vital part of that is ensuring they are well equipped to enjoy anal sex safely. For too long we've been relegated to the shadows and made to feel like we're harbouring a dirty little secret — but thanks to TikTok creators, change is finally on the horizon.

Bottoming dos and don'ts

With the help of some trusted health organisations including the UK's National Health Service (NHS), Brook, the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and sex education charity Fumble, we've compiled a list of bottoming dos and don'ts to get started.

Do

• Do use a condom

Always make sure your top is wearing a condom. The lining of your anus is very delicate and can be damaged easily, which increases the risk of STI transmission.

• Do make sure you have plenty of lube to hand

Your anus isn't self-lubricating, so using lube is essential for anal play. Try to use water-based products as oil-based lube can break down condoms, and avoid desensitising lubes — they may prevent you from noticing pain.

• Do change the condom if you're having vaginal sex afterwards

This is to avoid transferring bacteria from your anus to your vagina, which could lead to a urinary tract infection. 

• Do get tested for sexually transmitted infections each time you have anal sex with a new partner

This is pretty self-explanatory, but getting tested regularly for STIs is always recommended.

• Do use a towel or old sheet

Purely for ease of cleanup if you do have an accident.

• Start slow, and use fingers and toys first

If it's your first time bottoming (or first time in a while), use a lubricated anal sex toy (slowly) beforehand to get used to the feeling. Foreplay is crucial to relax the muscles in your anus.

• Remember, you're in control

  Make sure you communicate to whoever you're having sex with if something doesn't feel right or if you want to stop. Consent can be given and withdrawn at any time.

Don't

• Don't carry on if it hurts

Bottoming can feel uncomfortable (especially if you're a newbie), but that's what foreplay is for. Pain should never be something you're expected to put up with, and tears on the anus (known as anal fissures) take time to heal. 

• Don’t forget to breathe

Feeling relaxed is key. By regulating your breathing, you're helping your anus to relax. Take deep, slow breaths to start with.

• Don’t share someone else's sex toys 

Avoid doing this where you can, but if you can't, make sure to clean the toy thoroughly before and after use.

• Don't worry too much about poo

A common assumption is that poo sits directly inside of your anal sphincter, but this is false. Poo is stored in your colon and it’s when you're on the toilet that it travels through the rectum (where the fun happens) and out of your sphincter. As long as you've recently been to the toilet, it's very unlikely that you'll actually 'poo' on your partner.

If you're too worried about it to enjoy yourself, stick to other forms of sex (like oral) until you've gotten comfortable with the fact that shit does indeed, happen. Anal douching is common in the bottoming community to clean the rectum before sex, but it has its own pros and cons. 

This article was first published in 2021 and republished in 2023.

Netflix drama Everything Now is set to be a favourite amongst younger and older generations alike for its hedonistic, nostalgic take on teenage life, from first romances to drug dabbling and house parties.

The show follows Mia (played by Talk to Me star Sophie Wilde), a sixth-form student who returns to school after a stint in an eating disorder recovery clinic. She sets about trying to make up for all the social milestones she feels she’s missed, making a "F**k It Bucket List" of activities to tick off. Sex, partying, drugs — you name it. Debauchery, here she comes.

But Everything Now doesn’t just look closely at the devastation disordered eating can have on someone’s life and identity, not to mention their family and friends; it also has a very specific message about sexuality. The eight-episode series explores various areas of the sexuality spectrum, but the best part is that it’s done in a subtle way, allowing the character’s stories to speak for themselves and for their sexualities to harmoniously exist within these narratives.

Everything Now avoids making sexuality a plot point

Sophie Wilde as Mia. Credit: Netflix / Left Bank

In an interview with Glamour UK, Everything Now’s writer and creator Ripley Parker spoke about the importance of “no one's sexuality becoming plot”.

“I think many, maybe most, of the key romantic relationships portrayed in the show are queer relationships. But at no point does anyone need to come out or assign a label,” she said. 

Parker added that this kind of onscreen depiction is an “idealised” version of how sexuality is viewed in society, due to the trauma, prejudice and difficulty that can be attached to navigating sexuality offscreen. However, she stressed it was important for both queer and straight youth to see a portrayal of sexuality that is “just a part of who you are — it doesn’t need to be something that makes your life harder”.

Mia (Wilde) and Carli (TikTok star Jessie Mae Alonzo). Credit: Netflix / Left Bank

We see protagonist Mia navigate dating, sex and relationships with both young men and women, without the show using her bisexuality as “plot”. One entry on her F**k It List is to “lose her virginity”, and she explores potential sexual relationships with people of different genders without the series applying labels or emphasising it as a plot point. The case of whether Mia's first sexual experience happens with a boy or girl is not overdramatised or made into an issue, dodging the often heteronormative definition and attitudes around virginity.

How, as well as whether, different areas of the sexuality spectrum are represented in films and on TV shows is crucial. Organisations such as the GLAAD Media Institute work towards authentic representation on screen, consulting and training creatives in the industry on harmful tropes and how best to portray the LGBTQIA+ community. Raina Deerwater, GLAAD’s entertainment research and analysis manager, echoes and agrees with Everything Now’s mission of telling stories of sexuality that exist outside of high-level drama and trauma.  

“Many times, stories paint a character's identity as a source of tragedy,” she tells Mashable. “We encourage more stories to include LGBTQ people, specifically trans people, as people who exist and are living their lives in their own unique way, beyond transition and coming out narratives.” Deerwater stresses the importance of this representation in combating stereotypes and harmful discourse.

Alex Lynam, creator of LGBTQIA+ inclusion consultancy Beyond The Binary, agrees that there can at times be a “common denominator that someone from an marginalised group gets the negative or sad ending [on screen], almost silently discouraging people from being gay or being gay brings negative life journeys.”

Lynam tells Mashable, “When we are sharing stories of authenticity as a queer person, sharing day-to-day storylines, it normalises that queer people are just people too.” They add that the lack of queer onscreen representation while they were growing up made it “harder to hold conversations with people about my sexuality and gender because it was still seen as a taboo or ‘secret’, even though there were many queer performers out there”. 

Everything Now explores a range of different sexualities

BFFs: Becca (Lauryn Ajufo), Will (Noah Thomas), and Cam (Harry Cadby). Credit: Netflix / Left Bank

Different sexualities on the spectrum are also explored throughout Everything Now — one of Mia’s friends Will (played perfectly by newcomer Noah Thomas) embarks on a journey of discovering his attraction to others. He questions whether he feels sexual attraction at all, not knowing exactly what “fancying” someone felt like (a brief hint at asexuality). Will then considers whether he needs an emotional bond with a person in order to embark on sexual acts — “I’m starting to realise I need a connection first," he says. "Looks don’t really do it for me on their own.” — which has been defined as demisexuality on the ace spectrum. 

These conversations, once again, do not completely define Will’s character arc but merely bring questions to the surface that do a service to the broad range of identities on the sexuality spectrum, and experiences that come with that.  

Exploring these sexualities normalises “diverse sexual orientations, rather than using them for drama”, according to Matthew James Belfield, head of communications and marketing at the LGBT Foundation. “It underscores the uniqueness of each person's journey and counters past media practices that spread stereotypes and misunderstandings, especially around ace and bi+ identities and sexualities.”

It’s also important that virginity, a tough and sensitive subject for young people and an often unexplored or misunderstood one for queer people, is handled responsibly on shows like Everything Now. As Will grapples with his sexuality, for instance, another member of Mia’s friendship group Cam (played by Harry Cadby) reassures him that his friends don’t care when or if he decides to have sex – offering comfort around a subject that comes with a lot of pressure and expectation, especially if you’re questioning your sexuality.

Lauryn Ajufo as Becca, Niamh McCormack as Alison, Noah Thomas as Will, and Harry Cadby as Cam. Credit: Netflix / Left Bank

Belfield says that seeing teenage sexual milestones on screen that go beyond heteronormativity helps LGBTQIA+ teens feel “seen and validated”, as well as avoiding harmful stereotypes and unhelpful objectification of certain groups, particularly queer women. 

“Broadening the scope shows that these ‘first time’ narratives can belong to anyone, not exclusively for cisgender and straight people,” Deerwater explains. “Gen Z is the queerest generation yet and the media has to catch up to them in terms of depicting different narratives from beyond a heterosexual perspective.” She adds that portraying queer virginity experiences can “expand rigid expectations” on people of all ages and genders who are exploring their sexuality.

Today's TV representations of sexuality still aren't without criticism

Thaddea Graham as O in "Sex Education" Credit: Samuel Taylor/Netflix

Of course, not all attempts at representation onscreen are without criticism. The latest (and final) season of Sex Education received backlash for demonising ace character Sarah “O” Owen, played by Thaddea Graham, and limiting scenes she was in.

Asexual activist Yasmin Benoit spoke out shortly after the new season of the fellow British Netflix series aired, stating “disappointment” at the character’s portrayal after having worked as a consultant while the character of O was being written. While it’s positive for an ace character to have a storyline in a major Netflix show, it’s important that it’s done with sensitivity towards labels and demonisation around such characters and their sexualities. 

Heartstopper Season 2, for instance, received praise for its portrayal of asexual teen Isaac (Tobie Donovan) and his journey toward determining and embracing his own asexuality Lynam explains that one of the reasons for this is that Isaac’s storyline and sexuality was “fluid and not forced, which created a positive and healthy outlook on what young people can be questioning about their own sexuality”.

Tobie Donovan and Joe Locke as Isaac and Charlie in "Heartstopper." Credit: Netflix / Samuel Dore

“This is a community that has such little representation, and is still at the beginning of its awareness journey,” Benoit tells Mashable. “If people are introduced to asexuality through a character who comes across as cold-hearted and manipulative, it can negatively influence the way people see asexual people — particularly when there are so few examples of asexuality elsewhere.”

This incident proves the importance of ongoing conversations about sexuality representation on TV and in films, and continuing to look for ways to improve processes in the wider industry.

“TV still needs more queer storytellers, and for them to be elevated and supported by the studios and networks,” Deerwater says. “There is still a lack of stories from underrepresented groups, including disabled queer people, indigenous queer people, queer people living with HIV, the trans community, and queer characters of colour, to name a few."

She adds that writers and creatives should ensure that these stories and characters are not entrenched in heteronormative narratives. “Shows often still have one LGBTQ character in an ensemble of straight people, when in reality so many queer people have a community and chosen family,” Deerwater says. “We encourage stories to delve into diverse queer narratives and include many LGBTQ characters to show the variance in our lived experience.” 

For Benoit, ensuring queer people are involved in the creation of these TV characters and storylines is key — and that their views are taken on board. “There needs to be a diverse range of intersectional voices in the room, to ensure that those stories are told authentically and that the issues that matter are actually being tackled,” she says.

TV shows like "Everything Now" have the power to make meaningful advances forward for many facets of the queer community. Credit: Netflix / Left Bank

“Culture can be a powerful tool for change,” Deerwater adds. “TV and film must reflect the full LGBTQ community, including underrepresented communities, and must show them as fully realised people, not as stereotypes and caricatures.” 

TV shows like Everything Now have the power to make meaningful advances forward for many facets of the queer community, by creating a label-free and fluid space for people to explore their sexuality. Long may the conversation and representation continue.

How to watch: Everything Now is now streaming on Netflix.

Everything Now and Mashable's article mentions eating disorders. If you feel like you’d like to talk to someone about your eating behavior, text "NEDA" to the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 to be connected with a trained volunteer or visit the National Eating Disorder Association website for more information.

There was a tangy excitement in the salty sea air as the fandom of Our Flag Means Death realized this time we were not being queerbaited: Gentleman pirate Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) and fiery Captain Ed "Blackbeard" Teach (Taika Waititi) were indeed in a big gay romance, right on the high seas! 

This wasn't Johnlock again. It wasn't a hopeless ship. The incredible chemistry between two dashing men resulted in a passionate onscreen kiss, followed by a painful separation and some fallout that included a murder attempt, marooning of crew, and plenty of hurt feelings all around. So, how does Season 2 of this curious swashbuckler show launch? With three episodes that are diving into darkness and queerness wholeheartedly, I'm happy to report! Let's get into it.

Where does Our Flag Means Death Season 2 pick up? 

Credit: Nicola Dove/Max

The crew of The Revenge has been split in the acrimonious break-up between Stede and Blackbeard. As teased in trailers, Stede has taken refuge in the Republic of Pirates, and is coping by writing love letters and popping them into bottles he then tosses into the sea, his wishes for reconciliation carried on the waves. Meanwhile, Blackbeard, aboard The Revenge, is burying himself in work, relentlessly raiding ships and crashing weddings with a dead-eyed glare. 

Stede's remaining crew is scheming for a way out of the grip of Spanish Jackie (Leslie Jones, back from S1 and beguiling), while Blackbeard's shipmates are terrorized by his raids and the trauma they incur.

Critics were given the first 7 of 9 episodes, so I can assure you the reunion of crew and co-captains comes soon — in the first three episodes premiering on Oct. 5, actually. But from there, a new string of misadventures will befall these compelling pirates, including ruthless rivalries, a curious curse, and a rising tide against piracy as they know it. 

Our Flag Means Death Season 2 introduces Minnie Driver, Rachel House, and more fierce female pirates. 

Credit: Nicola Dove/Max

Among the return of such beloved characters as the spacy Buttons (Ewen Bremner), the winsome Oluwande (Samson Kayo), the swaggering Jim (Vico Ortiz), the tall-tale-telling Black Pete (Matthew Maher), and the ruthless Izzy (Con O'Neill), Our Flag Means Death introduces new friends and foes in its second season. 

Madeleine Sami, the New Zealand star who cracked us up with The Breaker Upperers and the crime procedural parody Deadloch, joins the revenge as a feisty fighter who finds a soft spot for Jim. The always enthralling and spunky Rachel House, who's appeared in Waititi movies like Boy, Eagle vs Shark, Hunt for the Wilderpeople, Thor: Ragnarok, and Next Goal Wins, pops up alongside a corseted and coarse Minnie Driver as a pair of infamous pirates who prove to be a powerful influence on warring lovers Ed and Stede. But the most profound addition to the cast is Ruibo Qian, who strides onto the deck as Zheng Yi Sao, the pirate queen of China. 

Where Stede is gentle but gullible and Blackbeard is hard but mercurial, Zheng Yi Sao literally laughs at the toxic masculinity that has shaped them — and a fleet of other male pirate captains. The workplace comedy vibe of Our Flag Means Death is shaken up by her daring new ideas... and her incredible broth. But far from a snarling ball-buster trying to mimic the big boys' aesthetic, this pirate queen does things her own way, in pigtails with a big smile but no patience for bullshit. Qian brings a bouncy warmth to this fearsome world, but there's a glint in her eyes that warns she could be the biggest threat the boys face this season. 

Our Flag Means Death embraces queer culture. 

Credit: Nicola Dove/Max

The first season had several notably queer characters in romantic relationships other than Stede and Ed, such as Black Pete and Lucius (Nathan Foad). Played by non-binary Latine actor Vico Ortiz, Jim rejected the gender binary while exploring a romantic relationship with Oluwande. But in Season 2, they both consider how their relationship will evolve as they look to new love interests, reflecting a far more healthy depiction of break-ups than the ever-dramatic Black-Stede. Also on board are lesbian pirates, a bearded drag queen looking divine, and an arc for Izzy that involves some truly radical acceptance, not only of the love whose name he dared not speak in Season 1 but also — begrudgingly – for himself. 

The new voyages for The Revenge deal with betrayal, heartbreak, violence, and murder. Some fans who enjoyed the buoyancy of Season 1 might be thrown by the occasionally grim intensity of Season 2. However, amid heart-to-hearts about trauma and change, Jenkins and his crew make room for queer joy. It's not just there in parties but also in the embrace between long-separated loves, in the casual employment of the nickname "babe," and in the glittery fins of a resplendent merman. (Just you wait!)

Personally, I prefer the balance struck this season, where characters are grappling for growth in ways hilarious and sometimes horrific. Aboard a pirate ship, such compromises — bloody and bold — make sense. Where the season fumbles is in its heavy-handed oral anachronisms and modern relevance. Popping Crocs into costuming alongside modern lingo has been there from the pilot, but as Blackbeard is forced to face consequences for some truly rancid behavior, words like "poisonous vibe" and "doing it for the lols" eye-roll at cancel culture more than they engage with the topic. But perhaps this wonky walk will right itself in the final two episodes of the season?

Along the way to an unknown conclusion, Our Flag Means Death offers a welcome return of characters queer, captivating, and wonderfully fun. It also probes deeper into themes of mortality, fidelity, forgiveness, and identity. Where it will land, I cannot say. But the journey so far is a thrilling one. 

How to watch: Our Flag Means Death Season 2 premieres episodes 1-3 on Max on Oct. 5, with new episodes every Thursday.

It's Bisexual Awareness Week, the time of year where bi people shed their invisible skins to be seen by the world.

Just kidding; it's a time of celebrating bisexuality online and off. According to a recent survey by the dating app Pure, however, stereotypes about bi people persist even in 2023.

Thirty-seven percent of Americans believe that, unlike being gay or straight, bisexuality is a choice. Three percent don't even believe in bisexuality, in Pure's survey of 2,000 American adults chosen at random.

Studies show that sexuality isn't a choice and bisexuality certainly exists. The false assumptions don't stop there, though: 20 percent believe bisexuality is a stepping stone to being gay, while 26 percent think bisexual people identify as such because it "offers perks" (though these perks aren't specified). Ten percent believe someone can't discover they're bi after 40 because "they've had plenty of time to decide."

The "slutty bi" stereotype prevails for 19 percent of Americans who think bi people are more likely to cheat; 17 percent who believe bi people are more promiscuous than those of other sexual orientations; and 13 percent who believe bi people are incapable of monogamy.

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Of the 7.2 percent of Americans who identify as LGBTQ, Gallup reported, the majority (58.2 percent) identify as bi. Despite making up most of the LGBTQ population, bi people face stereotypes in the LGBTQ community and elsewhere. Bi people are more likely to have anxiety or depression than gay or straight people, partly because of these stereotypes, biphobia, and monosexism (the belief that you can only be gay or straight). What's more is that bi people are more prone to intimate partner violence due to stigma as well.

Given these ingrained beliefs about bi people, it's difficult to imagine one would identify as bi because of "perks," but understandable why it would take 40 or more years to discover their bisexuality.

"I'm proud to say, that I am an open bi woman. I also experience all these stereotypes around being bi on a daily basis," said Pure's CEO Olga Petrunina in the press release. "We want to raise awareness around being bi and educate people on how we feel, what we are, and what we aren't. It's not a choice, it's not greediness, nor is it a 'stage.' We are [bi] and we are visible."

Check out Pure's full study, "Bi-gnorance," here.

On Instagram, artist Michael Kerschner posts collaborative queer portraits on his account, @queeringbeauty. Like many LGBTQ creators on the platform, Kerschner has received a warning that his account can't be viewed by non-followers — aka, he's been shadowbanned.

"How does it feel? Horrible," Kerschner told Mashable. His photo series is about embracing a fabulousness queer people repress to fit in, he said, and this notification — along with Instagram removing some Stories as well — makes him feel like Instagram doesn't approve of this kind of celebration.

"It has actually felt like assault," Kerschner said.

Mashable has spoken with several LGBTQ and sex educator Instagram accounts and academics who've experienced or witnessed shadowbanning.

What is shadowbanning?

Shadowbanning has a different definition depending on who you ask, but in this context it means content that isn't recommended on the Explore page, Feed, Reels; sometimes, shadowbanned means not being able to be found through Search, either. 

While, in recent months, Instagram has taken measures to be more transparent about being "non-recommendable" — Meta's way of saying shadowbanned — creators say that not much has changed. Not only does this impact their reach, but it's made their livelihoods take a hit — all while celebrities and brands can post similar content without consequence. Instagram didn't respond to Mashable's multiple requests for comment. 

Timeline of Instagram shadowbanning

For years, creators who post about sex, LGBTQ issues, erotic art, and similar matters have been saying that Instagram removes their content (or accounts) and shadowbans them. With Instagram's terms of service adhering to Facebook's policies about nudity and "sexual solicitation," sex-based content creators and others have claimed that the platform uses these rules to remove and shadowban them, even if their content contains no nudity or solicitation.

"This is something that a variety of creators…including nude and sexual content creators…LGBTQ+ users, sex educators, activists, journalists, and the like have been battling since 2019," said Dr. Carolina Are, innovation fellow at Northumbria University's Center for Digital Citizens, platform governance researcher, and content creator who herself has been shadowbanned. 

That year, a Facebook spokesperson apologized to Are via email for shadowbanning pole dancers, following a petition of over 18,000 dancers calling for Instagram to stop blocking their hashtags and content. 

Still, the issue persists. In Dec. 2022, Instagram updated Account Status for professional accounts, now letting creators know when they've been shadowbanned. While Meta doesn't use the term, this update allowed users to see if their content was ineligible to be recommended to non-followers on the Explore page, Feed Recommendations, and Reels — effectively, shadowbanned. 

Meta took a user-generated term, shadowban, and rebranded it into "non-recommendable," Are said. "This is a cosmetic change," she said. 

The update promised to help users understand why they're not recommended, and how to fix this problem (i.e. by deleting posts). Then, in April, Instagram announced another Account Status update: In addition to seeing whether posts can be recommended on Explore, Feed, and Reels, users can see if they're eligible for recommendation on Search and Suggested Accounts as well. Accounts can also edit posts or appeal these decisions for review.

Certain users began to receive a warning: "Your account can't be shown to non-followers."

Instagram's "Your account can't be shown to non-followers" notification. Credit: Carolina Are

Instagram head Adam Mosseri promised more transparency around shadowbanning this June. In a blog post, Mosseri reiterated that Account Status changes were built for this purpose.

"Instagram may restrict certain features available to your account if it appears that the account is not following Community Guidelines or our Terms of Use," says a blog titled Helping You Understand What's Going On with Your Account in the June update. "You can now see when some features on your account may be restricted and, if you think we made a mistake, take action to appeal or resolve the issue."

As Mashable reported at the time, Instagram creators weren't satisfied by these updates. 

Frustration over double standards

Sexuality expert and adult toy developer Topher Taylor said he's been shadowbanned by Instagram for years due to posting sex education and sex toy content. He received the warning about being shown to non-followers, then contested Instagram's decision. He won the appeal, and since then he's seen an influx of followers and has been able to Boost (paid promote) his posts. "It was just surreal," he said.

Taylor, however, said his account has been previously deleted and reinstated several times in addition to being shadowbanned. He partly attributes this to homophobic comments and reports on his account.

"You will get more reports if you're visibly queer," he said. 

Creators have noticed that content featuring heterosexual people doesn't receive the same scrutiny. "The fact that I see straight content and advertisements that are enormously sexual demonstrates that it is the act of queerness that they are rejecting," Kerschner said.

Nicholas, a queer photographer who wished to be referred to by their first name only, said Instagram doesn't explain what is offensive in photos it removes, "even if you see the same kinds of photos in your feed from other accounts 100 times a day."

Further, celebrities and brands can share suggestive content that will be removed on a smaller creator's account.

"Even though Instagram supposedly allows for artistic representations of nudity, many users have observed that large accounts that promote the male gaze (i.e. Playboy, Kardashians) can get away with explicit nudity, while queer, non-white, and feminist creators are more likely to have their accounts hidden from non-followers," said Annie Brown, researcher at the University of California San Diego and founder of Reliabl, a content moderation service for social platforms and online communities. 

Brown cited a report from the Brennan Center for Justice about double standards on social media: Platforms (this report focused on Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter) over-enforce rules on marginalized users like people of color, LGBTQ people, and religious minorities, but don't provide them support for harassment they face.

"At the moment, many marginalized users feel like this feature is performative, and does little to help them gain visibility on the platform," Brown continued.

This hinders marginalized creators' visibility, thus hindering their ability to make a living.

"It's directly impacted my income," said Taylor. "This is my bread and butter…it's very frustrating to be limited by [Instagram]," he said, especially seeing celebrities post similar content without the same scrutiny.

"It's just so disheartening, especially when it's my job…it's my employment," he continued. 

Sex educator Venus Libido echoed Taylor, saying content violations have affected her business and mental health. "This is my livelihood, and I have been doing this for years now," she told Mashable. "It is really scary to think that it can just all be ripped away from you at any time."

Disconnection between Meta and its users

In addition to being shadowbanned, these accounts often experience Instagram removing posts for violating community guidelines — many of them for nudity or "sexual solicitation." Some people Mashable spoke to have had their accounts deleted numerous times, as well. 

This recent move from Instagram was likely made due to user pushback when Meta denied shadowbanning was common, said Brown. Another reason is upcoming moderation transparency regulations in California and Europe, Brown noted.

"This new feature is still a top-down imposition of punishments that have little to do with the platform's community guidelines," Brown told Mashable in a written statement. "Users have no insight into why their posts are impacting their visibility except for broad statements such as violating 'guidelines on nudity and sexual activity.'"

Users can appeal these decisions, but the process is unpredictable. In a recent Instagram post, Are said Meta told her reviews should take a couple of days. But this hasn't been people's experience.

View this post on Instagram

"There was a time that I was so pissed off that I was contacting them every day," said queer artist Charlie G Fennel. "I've never been contacted back." Fennel, who posts photos of their partially nude body, said not even ten percent of their followers see their posts.

Venus Libido said she too has contacted Instagram every day the last few months, and even had a one-on-one call with Meta. The Meta employee, however, couldn't give her any answers. "I came prepared with multiple questions, yet none of them were answered," Venus Libido recalled, "nor was there any opportunity to understand why my account was being harshly criticised when I was following all the steps necessary."

Kerschner said the appeals process feels arbitrary. He's challenged Instagram's rulings before, and won some and lost others. "I don't really do it anymore as it doesn't feel appropriate or safe to ask for further rulings from whatever or whomever makes these decisions," he told Mashable.

Another disconnect between what Meta says and what users experience is what happens when they delete "offensive" posts. According to the "can't be shown to non-followers" notification, users need to delete certain posts in order to be seen by non-followers again. But as Meta told Are, "deleting posts works only depending on the type of posts/edits made and on context…and won’t automatically result in a green tick on your account status."

Are herself was shadowbanned for weeks before her appeal was reviewed and accepted. Then, as soon as she posted something new, her profile was deemed non-recommendable again — because posts that were previously successfully reviewed were flagged by the algorithm again.

"It's basically useless," Are said. "It's Groundhog Day of appealing the same content over and over again."

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"Once [users] remove offending content, as told by Instagram, they quickly receive another notification letting them know that older content needs to be removed as well," Brown said. "It seems to be a never-ending, no-win situation for creators."

"If this is an attempt at moderation transparency," Brown continued, "it is a poor one."

With their content going unseen and their financials taking a hit, these users expressed frustration over Instagram. The platform, like social media in general, is a necessity for people who make money online, and even if you just want to connect with likeminded people. 

Fennel said they're "slowly giving up" on Instagram, but compared how they feel about it to a condition in which people fall in love with their captors. "It influences your self esteem…because you're not able to promote what you're doing," they said. "It's [like] Stockholm syndrome because you feel tied to it too."

Amid attacks against LGBTQ people online and through legislation, Kerschner sees Instagram's actions as alarming.

"In a time where the mere expression of queer joy is becoming more dangerous, even deadly," he said, "it feels like an ominous practice for Instagram to play the role of arbiter of what society is willing to tolerate."

Longtime dating platform eharmony has partnered with LGBTQ advocacy group GLAAD to improve the experience for daters in the LGBTQ community.

Now, eharmony users can choose from an expanded list of genders and, when filling out personal information, can share more details about their gender. They can also choose whether to display their gender on their profile, and indicate whether they're seeking men, women, nonbinary people, or a combination. This information can be updated at any time. Users can even suggest additional genders, which eharmony will review on an ongoing basis.

Over half of eharmony users are millennials or members of Gen Z, eharmony told Mashable. The platform saw a 31 percent increase in LGBTQ members from 2022 to 2023. That may be at least in part due to the brand's redesign in 2020 and new ad campaigns in the three years since that aiming to portray the diversity of the user base, including LGBTQ couples.

Some of the gender options under the nonbinary umbrella on eharmony. Credit: eharmony

eharmony's Suggest a gender feature. Credit: eharmony

"eharmony came to us with a recognition that their product needed updating to better accommodate and serve LGBTQ+ people seeking to connect on their platform," said director of transgender representation at GLAAD, Alex Schmider, in the press release. Schmider said the company has been committed to inclusion across the organization, including all-staff and department-specific trainings.

"It's our mission at eharmony to create an opportunity for everyone to find real love. We strive to offer a product experience that best reflects our mission and values as a company today," said eharmony's chief operating officer Gareth Mandel in the press release. Also, LGBTQ eharmony members requested these changes, Mandel said in a written statement to Mashable.

eharmony users can now choose a combination of genders they're open to meeting. Credit: eharmony

Mandel went on to say that eharmony remains committed to inclusion. "Love is a universal human need; so are feelings of belonging and inclusion. It's deeply important to us that all of our members — including our LGBTQ+ members — are able to authentically express themselves and find meaningful connections on our platform," he said.

eharmony recognizes that the LGBTQ community has been historically targeted for harassment, Mandel said, and any hateful or offensive acts, content, or communication may result in a permanent ban. He said, "We encourage members to report any member they may have a concern about for any reason, whether to call our attention to inappropriate behavior, or to share a potential red flag for peace of mind."

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People can report others directly from someone's profile page or within communication with a match. Each report is reviewed by the Trust and Safety team, and all are kept confidential.

"We hope eharmony is an example for other companies in demonstrating how doing the work internally helps translate to external success, especially in collaboration with communities," Schmider, of GLAAD, said.

The filmmakers behind Australian horror film Talk to Me have issued a joint statement in solidarity with actor Zoe Terakes, following the film's ban by censors in Kuwait over their casting.

As reported by The Hollywood Reporter, film production company Causeway Films and independent movie finance firm Bankside Films shared a united message of support for Terakes, who is nonbinary and trans masculine.

"We stand in solidarity with Zoe Terakes following the decision by Kuwait to ban the film Talk to Me," reads Causeway and Bankside's statement, published by THR. "Zoe has made their own statement, which we fully support, and we are immensely proud of their involvement in the film."

The feature debut from Australian YouTubers RackaRacka (aka Danny Philippou and Michael Philippou) and a co-production with A24, Talk to Me isn't the first film banned in Kuwait for LGBTQ references, characters, or themes. Namrata Singh Gujral's film 5 Weddings was banned in 2018 for the inclusion of trans characters; Thor: Love and Thunder in 2021 "due to scenes of gay characters"; Lightyear in 2022 for its same-sex kiss; Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness the same year for Xochitl Gomez's character America Chavez, who is gay in the film and comics; Chloé Zhao’s Eternals for featuring the MCU's first gay superhero and gay kiss; Steven Spielberg's West Side Story for the inclusion of trans character Anybodys, played by nonbinary actor Iris Menas.

However, as THR noted, it's the first to be censored in Kuwait directly for the gender identity of a cast member, simply for being in the film. And notably, in the movie, Terakes' character Hayley's gender identity is never mentioned or part of the narrative — it's a movie about a haunted hand that terrorises a bunch of teens after a séance.

Terakes posted their own statement on Instagram on Sunday following news of the film's "targeted and dehumanising" ban, and encouraged people to donate to U.S. and Canada-based nonprofit Rainbow Railroad, an organisation that helps at-risk LGBTQ individuals around the globe get to safety.

"I’ve been wondering how to respond to this. Whether it deserves the dignity of a response," they wrote. "This isn’t the first film Kuwait has banned. If there are queer or trans themes or scenes in your film, it’s probably not gonna make it to the Gulf. Which is devastating and terrifying in its own right. But our film doesn’t have queer themes. Our film doesn’t actually ever mention my transness, or my queerness. I am a trans actor who happened to get the role. I’m not a theme. I’m a person. Kuwait has banned this film due to my identity alone."

"Reportedly, this is a first. This is a new precedent," they continued. "It is targeted and dehumanising and means to harm us. As much as it is very sad to be on the receiving end of this, what is even more heartbreaking is what this precedent means for the queer and trans people of Kuwait. Representation is hope. Representation is a light at the end of the tunnel, a reason to keep going, something to hold onto in the dark, a voice that whispers things can be better than they are.

"Eliminating trans actors on screens will not eliminate trans people (as much as the government of Kuwait wishes it would) but it will eliminate a lot of hope. And hope is such a large part of how we live as marginalised people. It’s how we learn to move through the hatred and the mistreatment and the violence. We look to all the people who have done it before us, we look to all the people who are doing it beside us, and that gives us hope to keep going.

"We are a community that has learnt to depend on each other, because cis people have historically been no help. Therefore, our survival is so dependent on our ability to look to each other, to share with each other, to lean on each other, to love each other, to see each other. My heart breaks for the trans people and queer people of Kuwait who have so few places to look."

Discrimination and police violence toward LGBTQ people, especially trans women, in Kuwait has been long documented and reported, including in-depth reports by organisations including the Human Rights Watch and Human Dignity Trust.

Only last year, Kuwait ended the criminalisation of trans people when the constitutional court overturned a law used to prosecute transgender people, a law that has actually been deployed to discriminate against, harass, abuse, assault, detain, torture, and degrade trans people in the country. As recently as 2021, a transgender Kuwaiti woman was sentenced to two years in prison for "imitating the opposite sex" under Article 198 of the 1960 Penal Code.

With the release of Haunted Mansion, director Justin Simien, who forged his reputation with the indie comedy Dear White People and its subsequent spinoff series, makes the leap to splashy studio-made summer movie. 

While some might scoff about the artistic virtue of transforming a popular Disneyland ride into a could-be movie franchise (after the failed launch of 2003's The Haunted Mansion, starring Eddie Murphy), Simien saw this as an opportunity to make the kind of movie he treasured as a kid. 

"Someone called [Haunted Mansion] like 'baby's first horror movie' or something," Simien said in an interview with Mashable. "And I love that — though it's more genre than horror. I mean, there are certainly horror flourishes, but it's a comedy ensemble that's in a very fantasy/horror kind of world. And that was just my jam growing up."

Justin Simien found inspiration for Haunted Mansion in Tim Burton and classic horror films. 

Justin Simien directing Owen Wilson in "Haunted Mansion." Credit: Disney Enterprise

Among the movies Simien listed as influential — both on him as a kid and in the making of Haunted Mansion — were early Tim Burton movies like Pee-wee's Big Adventure, Beetlejuice, and Edward Scissorhands, as well as Frank Oz's horror-comedy musical Little Shop of Horrors, Ivan Reitman's comedy classic Ghostbusters, Jonathan Lynn's beloved cult caper Clue, and Wolfgang Petersen's traumatizing child-centered adventure The Neverending Story. But a pivotal inspiration is a throwback to classic horror.

"For me, a big touchstone was Robert Weiss's The Haunting (1963), which is so obviously a an influence of the [Haunted Mansion] ride itself." Simien said, "No one said that anywhere, but you can just watch that movie and feel the influence in the ride." 

Simien explained, "[Those movies] spoke to me. To see weird people in weird situations, living something that felt like life but also took me away from my everyday life? That was the stuff that kind of buoyed me as a kid — and certainly [made me] want to be a director." 

Beyond these fascinating worlds full of ghosts, fantastical creatures, murder, and comical mayhem, Simien was also drawn to these films because of their practical effects. "I love the practicality of them," he said. "I love how — even today — when you watch some of the sequences, even though you're being taken to heaven and hell and all these fantasy worlds, it's being done with lighting and production design and puppets. And so even though you know it's not real, there's a tactile practicality to the world that makes you believe in it anyway. That was like a big touchstone. And those were the movies I cited when I talked [to the production team] about what I wanted Haunted Mansion to feel." 

Justin Simien reveals what it means to be Black, gay, and working for Disney right now. 

Rosario Dawson, Tiffany Haddish, LaKeith Stanfield, and Owen Wilson in "Haunted Mansion." Credit: Disney Enterprise

Amid the revelry for Haunted Mansion's release, Simien is forced to contend with several issues while promoting the movie. Disney, the film's studio and distributor, is engaged in a fight with anti-LGBTQ+ politician Ron DeSantis, which is part of a culture war that rages across the nation, threatening the rights and safety of queer people. On top of that, Haunted Mansion is opening during the SAG/AFTRA and WGA strike, which has caused some of the public to question Simien's continuing on the film's promotional tour. 

Simien has addressed the controversy over walking Haunted Mansion's red carpet. Asked what it means for him, as a gay, Black filmmaker, to have a family-friendly movie getting a nationwide release from Disney right now, he admitted, "It's a really weird time to not only make something but to also stand in front of a release of any kind right now. But it also feels really, really important." 

"I don't know that it's happened before exactly, that a gay, Black director has made a movie like this, specifically for this audience," Simien said. "But at the same time, I know that these are the kinds of movies I grew up on. They fed my Black, gay spirit as a kid. And I'm really proud that that's something I could accomplish — and not only just accomplish it, but put so many Black people in the movie, and lean into some of the really subversive, fun stuff about Disney that doesn't always get emphasized in these movies. That was definitely really important to me; it felt like I had to do it. It felt like a mandate, almost." 

Justin Simien praised his ensemble cast of heroes and ghosts.

The Haunted Mansion stars LaKeith Stanfield, Rosario Dawson, Tiffany Haddish, and Chase Dillon, as well as Jamie Lee Curtis, Owen Wilson, Danny DeVito, Jared Leto, and Beetlejuice's Winona Ryder. Simien has sung the praise of the ensemble, who rejected cynicism to throw their earnestness and enthusiasm into a tale of wild ghosts and comically haunted mortals. Asked how the cast came together, Simien revealed that Black representation was a part of his pitch from the start. 

"There were some things that I was really adamant about when we got in there," Simien said of the pitch meeting. "One of them was, we had to have a Black lead. Part of my pitch was I wanted to really ground the Haunted Mansion in New Orleans, which is where it is supposedly at [per park lore]. And New Orleans is an 85% Black [city]." 

"And I was like, 'We got to have a Black lead,' And it's got to be somebody that can pull us into a character in a story that would be difficult if it was somebody else," he explained. That lead ended up being Stanfield, who brings a rattling pathos, sharp comedic timing, and chest-hair swagger to the role of Ben Matthias.

The rest of the casting Simien said "was a lot more of a collaboration once we locked in our lead." He was in awe of the ensemble that was pulled together, not so much because of their star power ("I started my Hollywood career in publicity; stars don't really [phase me].") but because of how they came together in making the movie. 

"I come from a theatre background," Simien noted. "That's where I learned directing. And I love working with actors, like it's my favorite part of it, finding performance and creating a creative space and figuring out people's dynamics with each other. Like, that's the stuff that turns me on.

"And even though these were really big stars," Simien said, "they were so game and so passionate. And it's so easy to be cynical about things like this because it's big IP. You're rushed. It's really a crucible to make a movie." 

Yet Simien said the cast came together to make "the best movie" possible. "And it was really, that was my heart. The cast was my whole heart. And so it was so great getting to work with each of them, and all such geniuses in very specific ways. It was really beautiful."

Haunted Mansion is now in theaters.

For LGBTQ youth, social media is a double-edged sword: a digital public space that acts as both an important lifeline for identity-based community and an increasingly dangerous threat to their mental well-being.

And a new research brief from nonprofit The Trevor Project documents just how much this dynamic affects the online behavior of LGBTQ young people of color, specifically. According to the organization's 2023 data — based on a national youth survey of more than 28,000 LGBTQ young people ages 13-24 across the U.S. — these young users are seeking out forms of online community most frequently through popular social platforms like TikTok. Plus, they're reporting a significantly higher impact of positive online experiences on their mental health.

"Feeling safe and understood in at least one online space is associated with lower suicide risk and lower rates of recent anxiety for all LGBTQ young people, and for LGBTQ young people of color in particular," writes the organization.

"Overall, LGBTQ young people who reported feeling safe and understood in at least one online space had 20 percent lower odds of attempting suicide in the past year, compared to LGBTQ young people who reported not feeling safe and understood in any online space."

According to survey responses, TikTok leads as most respondents' go-to platform for online comfort and safety, with 53 percent of LGBTQ young people of color reporting feeling safe and understood on the app. The social messaging platform Discord ranked next (42 percent), followed by Instagram (41 percent), and YouTube (33 percent).

Credit: The Trevor Project

The Trevor Project also found that responses and their severity differed greatly between white LGBTQ youth and LGBTQ youth of color, with the latter reporting significantly lower rates of feeling safe and understood on Reddit, Twitch, Steam, Facebook, and dating apps.

"Our research examines the online experiences of LGBTQ young people through an intersectional lens, highlighting the unique factors that race and ethnicity play in determining which social platforms feel safest," said Wilson Lee, senior machine learning research scientist at The Trevor Project. "These data are especially relevant as federal and state lawmakers are considering legislation that seeks to regulate how young people interact with the internet.

"Online spaces can serve as a protective factor for suicide risk and anxiety for LGBTQ young people who may not feel safe at home or in school, further emphasizing the crucial need to protect access to social platforms that affirm diverse LGBTQ identities."

In June, the Anti-Defamation League released its own findings on digital hate and harassment, documenting that more than half of adults and teens have experienced online harassment in their lifetimes. The report pointed to increased reports of harassment on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, WhatsApp, and even TikTok. These numbers were the highest among transgender users, and differed greatly among users of color.

That same month GLAAD issued its updated 2023 Social Media Safety Index, which scores the "Big 5" social media platforms (Twitter, TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and Facebook) on their protections for LGBTQ users. The index found that Twitter was the most unsafe for LGBTQ users at risk of hate and harassment, with the four other platforms still receiving failing grades.

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More broadly, research is casting a critical light on unmoderated social media use. In May, the U.S. Surgeon General issued a warning about youth social media use, writing in a national advisory that there isn't enough evidence to conclude that social media is sufficiently safe for young people to use.