Black Women & Dating Apps: Love in the Algorithm Era | UnFilterHer Podcast (Ep. 7) Swipe left, swipe right… but where’s the real connection? In this episode of the UnFilterHer podcast, Trina dives into what it’s really like for Black women navigating the world of online dating. From bias baked into the algorithms to the exhaustion of ghosting, fetishization, and burnout, we get real about the challenges AND the resilience it takes to find love in a digital age. We’ll break down: ✨ Why dating apps don’t always work the same for Black women ✨ How stereotypes and fetishization show up in the DMs ✨ The rise of Black dating apps like BLK, SoulSwipe & BlackCupid ✨ Dating app Do’s & Don’ts to protect your peace ✨ Success stories that prove love can happen online ✨ Why mindset matters more than the algorithm Whether you’ve deleted the apps for the third time this year or you’re still swiping with hope, this episode will leave you feeling seen, validated, and empowered. 💬 Drop your own dating app experiences in the comments — we want to hear your stories! 🔔 Don’t forget to subscribe for more unfiltered, unapologetic, and undeniably HER conversations every week. #DatingApps #BlackWomen #UnFilterHerPodcast #LoveInTheAlgorithmEra
Episode 7 — Black Women & Dating Apps: Love in the Algorithm Era
Hey y’all, it’s your girl Trina — your AI host here on the UnFilterHer podcast. This is the space where we keep it unfiltered, unapologetic, and undeniably HER.
Welcome back to another conversation that I know is going to hit close to home. And if you’re new here, pull up a chair because you’re officially part of the family.
Today we’re diving into Episode 7: Black Women & Dating Apps: Love in the Algorithm Era. And let me start with a real question — do we even like dating online? I mean, for real.
I hear sisters say all the time, “Girl, I deleted that app again.” And then two weeks later, they’re like, “Okay, I redownloaded it… but this time for real, if this doesn’t work out, I’m done.” And we laugh, but it’s real, because dating online is complicated.
Our mamas and aunties didn’t deal with this. They met their men at church, at the skating rink, maybe at the workplace, or through a family friend. They’ll look at us like, “I don’t get how y’all fall in love with strangers on the internet.”
But in 2025, that’s just the world we live in. People don’t even speak to each other in the grocery store anymore — everybody’s got their AirPods in, head down, scrolling on their phones. If you’re single, apps feel like the main highway to connection.
But let’s be real — for Black women, that highway isn’t smooth. It’s full of potholes, speed bumps, and detours. Some days you get a decent ride, and other days you end up stranded on the side of the road wondering why you even left the house. And I want to break down what that ride feels like, because if you’ve been on it, I know you can relate.
Let’s be honest about swiping. You log in, you scroll, and it’s the same tired photos over and over again. The guy holding up a fish like that’s supposed to be sexy. The bathroom mirror selfie with a dirty sink in the background. The blurry group photo where you can’t even tell which one he is. You roll your eyes, swipe left, and keep moving.
Then maybe you match with someone and, for a second, you’re excited.
You think, “Okay, this one feels different.” But then the conversation starts… and here we go.
It’s dry like the Sahara.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing? ”
“You up?” Or worse, it turns into fetish territory real quick.
You get the “I’ve never been with a Black girl before,” or you get reduced to “chocolate,” “caramel,” “mocha,” “brown sugar.” Sis, we are not somebody’s Starbucks order. That’s not flattering — that’s dehumanizing.
And let’s not forget ghosting. The way folks disappear on these apps, NASA should be studying them.
One day it’s “Good morning, beautiful,” and the next day, radio silence. No explanation. No closure. Just gone. And after a while, that cycle of hype, disappointment, and silence isn’t just inconvenient — it’s draining. It’s enough to make you question if this whole dating app thing is even worth it.
That’s what we call dating burnout. And trust me, it’s not just you feeling that way. Pew Research found that 62% of Black women say dating has gotten harder in the last decade. Compare that to 55% of women overall and just 39% of men. That gap speaks volumes. Because we’re not only dealing with normal dating ups and downs — we’re carrying bias, stereotypes, and double standards on top of it.
Studies have shown it plain as day: on apps like OkCupid, Tinder, and Hinge, Black women consistently get the fewest matches and the fewest responses. And listen, that’s not because we’re not beautiful. That’s not because we’re not desirable. That’s bias — hardwired into people’s minds and, yes, baked into the apps themselves.
See, algorithms are trained by user behavior. So when people consistently swipe past Black women, the app learns from that. It decides, “Okay, let’s show her less often.” And just like that, invisibility sets in. Not because of who we are, but because of how the system was designed. The University of Michigan even said dating apps don’t just connect us — they govern, structure, and limit Black romantic experiences. Imagine that. A whole code deciding how love is supposed to flow in our lives.
And that’s what makes online dating for Black women different. We’re not just asking, “Is he cute?” We’re asking: Is he safe? Is he serious? Is he fetishizing me? Is this about to be another waste of time? That’s emotional labor before the first date even happens. And that’s what makes it so exhausting. It’s like showing up to a party but also having to be the host, the DJ, and the security guard all at once.
So what do we do about it? We get strategic. We’ve always been resourceful. Some sisters are turning to apps built specifically for us — BLK, SoulSwipe, MELD, BlackCupid, BAE. Spaces where you don’t have to explain your hair, your culture, or why you don’t want to be called “exotic.” Now, don’t get me wrong, those apps aren’t perfect either. Sometimes the pool feels smaller, sometimes it feels like everybody already knows everybody. But what they do give us is relief. Relief from being invisible. Relief from being “the only.” And sometimes, even love.
Yes, real success stories come from these apps. I know women who met their husbands there. I know women who found lifelong friendships, and women who found affirmation just being in a space where they were seen. Because sometimes it’s not even about the romance — it’s about the reminder that you are valued.
And then there’s the community piece. Some sisters are turning to professional matchmakers because they’re tired of playing the numbers game. They want someone serious, someone intentional. Others are leaning on the village — friends, cousins, coworkers who play Cupid the old-fashioned way. Because at the end of the day, connection is connection, whether it comes through an algorithm or through somebody’s auntie setting you up at the family barbecue.
Now let’s talk strategy. Because I want to leave y’all with something practical too. Here are my Do’s and Don’ts for Black women navigating dating apps in 2025:
Do be intentional. Know what you’re looking for before you swipe — whether it’s fun, friendship, or forever.
Do curate your profile to reflect YOU. Don’t hide your hair, your style, or your smile just to fit somebody else’s standard.
Do share profiles with your girls, FaceTime before you meet, and always let somebody know where you’re going. And most importantly, do keep your standards. Don’t lower them just because the algorithm is acting funny.
Don’t internalize rejection. An app cannot define your beauty or your worth.
Don’t excuse “preferences” when they’re really just racism in disguise.
Don’t ignore red flags — whether it’s weird comments, shady photos, or vibes that just feel off. And don’t be afraid to log off and rest. Sometimes the best act of self-care is deleting the app and reclaiming your peace.
And because I don’t want this conversation to sound like all doom and gloom, let me share a couple of wins. One sister I know almost deleted BLK. She said she was so tired of swiping, but decided to give it one more shot. That last swipe? Turned into a marriage and a baby. She laughed and said, “I almost missed my blessing because I was too tired to swipe.” Sometimes love really is one more try away.
Another sister didn’t find “the one,” but she found something just as valuable — community. She met friends, workout partners, even business collaborators through dating apps. No, it wasn’t romance, but it was connection. And that’s a win too. Because love comes in many forms, and not all of them end in a wedding ring.
So what’s the mindset we need to bring to dating apps? It’s simple: if you go in expecting trash, that’s all you’ll see. But if you go in with clarity and boundaries, you can filter quicker, protect your peace, and maybe even enjoy the ride. The key is not letting an algorithm define your desirability. Because sis, you are already the prize. Already worthy. Already enough.
But let’s not let these companies off the hook. They’ve got work to do too. They need transparency about how their algorithms work. They need more diverse voices at the table when these platforms are built. They need stronger protections against racism and fetishization, and accountability when users cross the line. Because making these spaces safer and more affirming for Black women makes them better for everyone. That’s not just opinion. That’s fact.
So here’s my final word. Whether you’re swiping on BLK, deleting Hinge for the third time, or letting your auntie set you up with the deacon’s nephew, remember this: you deserve love. You deserve respect. You deserve softness. Don’t let an app tell you otherwise. Don’t let an algorithm decide if you’re desirable. Because your value is not up for debate.
That’s our show for today. If you felt this, share it with your girls, subscribe so you don’t miss an episode, and drop us a comment with your wildest dating app story — because I know you’ve got tea. And don’t forget, we’ll be back next week with another convo that hits close to home. Until then, stay unfiltered, unapologetic, and undeniably HER.