Queer (post-)migration experiences: Mexican men’s use of gay dating apps in the USA

Introduction

During the last decade, gender and sexuality studies as well as mobility studies have paid further attention to queer migration. Various scholars (Cantú, 2009; Carrillo and Fontdevila, 2014; Luibhéid, 2008; Mai and King, 2009; Manalansan, 2006; Peumans, 2014; Ryan-Flood, 2015; Vasquez del Aguila, 2014, 2015) have conducted research on the complex interplay between queer sexualities and migration trajectories. A few of them (Alcade, 2018; Vasquez del Aguila, 2015) have even paid attention to the case of queer migrants returning to their country of origin. As Carrillo and Fontdevila (2014: 920) pointed out, ‘in general, prior work on LGBT immigrants has shown that sexuality-related motivations propel their international relocation – that they leave their countries of origin believing they will be able to live their sexuality more freely’. Carrillo (2004: 58) thus defines sexual migration as an ‘international relocation that is motivated, directly or indirectly, by the sexuality of those who migrate’. However, focusing on the USA–Mexican context in particular, Carrillo, in his most recent work (Carrillo, 2017), challenges the idea that queer migrants moving from Mexico to the USA necessarily do so because they perceive their home country as homophobic and their host country as a more open-minded society. In a similar vein, Cantú (2009: 119) argues that ‘many of these men come to the USA seeking a “place” where they might have more opportunities to not only explore their sexuality more freely but also develop other aspects of themselves that are constrained by other factors linked to homophobia and heteronormativity’. Indeed, it seems problematic to theoretically dissociate sexuality from other dimensions of LGBTQ migrants’ life, such as socio-economic conditions, professional opportunities or even cosmopolitan aspirations.

That is why ‘queer migration’ is the concept that best encompasses both the guiding line of this research and the experiences shared by the participants. My understanding of queer migration draws from the conceptual framework developed by the Queer Migration Research Network – especially by Luibhéid (2008) – and Manalansan (2006). These researchers view queer migration as a research area that analyses the mutual and multiple relationships between sexuality and migration, but also goes ‘beyond migration and sexuality strictly defined’ (Luibhéid, 2008: 169) by considering the restructuration of power relations and inequalities through mobility. With this article, I therefore wish to contribute to the queer migration framework as an inclusive concept suggesting that queer migrants’ sexuality impacts both migration trajectories and post-migration experiences. Thus, the term ‘queer migration’ as I will refer to it throughout this article does not refer to an identity label but rather emphasizes the fluidity of sexual identities and subjectivities in a context of migration. Finally, this article refers to the migration condition as the experiences of these men in the USA, even though their involvement in geosocial dating apps in Mexico City (which I refer to as post-migration experiences), after they returned, is discussed later.

Regarding the influence of social media on queer identities, some pioneering studies (Mowlabocus, 2010) already considered this issue as a fundamental change within contemporary gay male subculture. However, the way these technologies are used by queer migrants and their influence on their migration trajectories are poorly acknowledged. Most studies (Dhoest, 2016; Dhoest and Szulc, 2016) on queer migrants and social media tend to further take into account networks such as Facebook or dating websites, even though they briefly mention the use of smartphone apps. Yet, most recently, a few researchers (Cassidy and Yang Wang, 2018; Shield, 2017) suggested that dating apps are often a way to accelerate integration for queer migrants. During my investigation, the prominence of gay dating apps naturally came up in the stories of two of the informants. That is why this study examines more specifically their trajectories.

This article focuses on Mexican queer migrants returning from the USA and their use of geo-localized gay dating apps while they were abroad. One of the main arguments of this study is that dating apps significantly impact the trajectories of my informants, both as queers and as migrants. They shape – or reshape – the way they negotiate affective relationships and sexuality. I argue that the use of gay apps plays a major role in the redefinition of queer sexual subjectivities while abroad. Yet, I do not only show how gay dating apps reshape sexualities and networks of relationships after relocation, I also discuss the context in which the participants have come to use these tools. Indeed, they discovered gay apps in the USA, not in their home country even though they are available there too. Therefore, this article demonstrates that the use of such mobile technologies must be regarded as a full dimension of the migration experience for the participants.

Methodology

The findings presented here are the result of a five-month ethnographic fieldwork with eight participants, aged from 24 to 32 at the time of the research, who self-identified as gay or bisexual. This qualitative research is based on in-depth interviews, informal conversations and participant observation. Although the participants have different social backgrounds, the majority of them come from the lower middle class and are mestizos. ¹ Some of them were born in other regions in Mexico but they all identified Mexico City as their ‘home’.

I met the participants through common friends and geosocial dating applications. We saw each other on a regular basis in various contexts where I conducted participant observation: groups of friends, family, city walks, gay venues, university campus, etc. I also carried out in-depth semi-structured interviews that were conducted in Spanish, which was the informants’ native language. This research would not have been possible without geo-localized dating apps. First of all, I contacted most of my informants through these apps. They were useful both for contacting the informants and understanding certain realities of the Mexican gay subculture. Almost all my informants were familiar with the use of these tools and when the question came up during the interviews, my own experience enabled me to understand the framework of this online environment, at least in the Mexican context, as I did not use these apps in the USA (which may limit the findings presented here). Thus, I downloaded two dating apps: Grindr and Tinder (the characteristics of these apps will be detailed later on). As my profile did not contain any description, I had to explain my role and my position as a researcher before starting to chat with potential participants. I introduced myself as a foreign social scientist currently doing an investigation on gay men who had migrated to the USA.

Exploring gay dating apps: An entry into the host society

Geosocial dating apps emerged quite recently (in the late 2000s and early 2010s) and have an increasing influence on gay and bisexual men (Badal et al., 2016). Most gay apps do not offer any platform for computers or laptops, which means that they are only available through smartphones and tablets. Mobility is thus the raison d’être of these applications. They are new instruments of mobility because people do not only use them at home on their laptop, like dating websites, but rather in the streets, at work, at university, in public transport, and so on. Thus, dating apps challenge the usual framework of other social media because they are location-based. ²

While prior research (Dhoest and Szulc, 2016; Shield, 2017) underlined that queer migrants had already experienced these social networks in their countries of origin, in my investigation, I was surprised by the fact that all the participants who used gay apps discovered these technologies in the USA, after they arrived, even though they do exist in Mexico. For at least two of them (Antonio and Ernesto ³ ), the use of geo-localized gay dating apps played a major role during their integration in the host country. I argue that gay apps significantly impact the trajectories of these participants, both as gay/bisexual men and as migrants. They often represent for them a major tool to enhance their integration in the USA. Indeed, as these men are not necessarily used to the same gender and sexual norms than those of their country or origin, these tools therefore represent a way to enter this new system. Even though most users do not always meet all the persons they chatted with, many of them spend a considerable amount of time on these apps. For these men, gay apps are part of their daily routine and they use them more than any other social media, including Facebook. It is then reasonable to believe that gay dating apps have a significant impact on their lives.

Filling a need for sociability

As mentioned earlier, previous research on gay migrants’ use of dating apps emphasized the role played by these apps in the integration process. Indeed, as Shield (2017: 244) noted in his research conducted in Copenhagen on recently arrived migrants and their use of geosocial media, ‘for gay immigrants in particular, informal chats on gay dating platforms can be a useful way to engage initially with others in the host country and to build social and logistical networks’. This insight is essential for the present research as well. I argue here that, for the participants, geo-localized dating apps often contribute to fill a need for sociability. Finding other gay men (whether for sexual contacts or not) through these apps enables them to create new networks outside of the Mexican community they are expected to be part of. In this particular context, their sexuality cannot be solely reduced to ‘something essentially private’ (Mai and King, 2009: 297). It is a means to explore other milieus while living abroad. For queer migrants, experiencing non-normative sexualities in heteronormative environments can bring changes impacting other dimensions of their lives (Cantú, 2009). The men interviewed emphasized the oppressiveness they faced in the USA, stuck in heteronormative neighbourhoods. Consequently, meeting various partners and/or friends online was also a way for them to enhance their integration and to gain agency in this process. Indeed, Antonio tried the apps because he was trying to escape confinement and loneliness in Dallas. Likewise, Ernesto started to use gay apps out of boredom, as he said. Thus, their loneliness in the host country undoubtedly played a role in the way they discovered these technologies.

Therefore, gay dating apps fill various needs going beyond sexual contacts. These were not only a way to get integrated in the new city, but they were also used to socialize. For the participants, searching for other men who are gay and bisexual as well does not imply looking only for sexual contacts. Sometimes, a first date reveals common areas of interest between users rather than physical attraction. As previously mentioned, the participants met the vast majority of their friends in the USA through dating apps and, very often, they never had sex with them. Ernesto, for instance, told me that he had thousands of online conversations on the same app in a year (including seven months in the USA). For him, meeting men through the networks was sometimes a way to get offered a job. For Antonio, meeting a man everyday through the apps was also a way to improve his English, as he said.

Although they mostly enjoyed their sexual experiences through these apps, the participants never mentioned sexual desire as a motivation to use them. Indeed, it seems clear that sexual contacts were in no case the only purpose of these men’s involvement in dating apps, but rather a means to create social ties in the challenging context of migration. Of course, sex does remain a key aspect of their use, but more than sex per se, I would argue that gay apps also work as a way to gain further social recognition for these men. By chatting and meeting people face-to-face through these apps, Antonio and Ernesto felt socially valued, a feeling they rarely experienced outside this online community while they were in the USA.

The migration of sexuality

While the shift of sexualities among Mexican gay men in the USA has already been acknowledged (Cantú, 2009; Carrillo and Fontdevila, 2014; Thing, 2009, 2010), the role of geosocial dating apps in this process has been overlooked. In this section, I argue that gay apps influence the ways the participants define themselves and manage their sexual life. Drawing on Cantú’s Sexuality of Migration (2009), I wonder to what extent the trajectories of these men could be analysed through the ‘migration of sexuality’ framework as well.

Since the 1990s, it has been argued (Cantú, 2009; Carrillo, 1999; Thing, 2009, 2010) that the Mexican understanding of homosexuality is shifting from a traditional definition to a more ‘modern’ view. In Mexico, as in most Latin American countries, male same-sex sexuality has been perceived through a ‘gender stratified activo/pasivo ¹⁰ model of homosexuality’ (Thing, 2010: 809) according to which only the pasivo (sexually penetrated) partner is considered as gay – and often repressed for this reason – whereas the activo (sexually penetrating) partner is usually not affected by the homosexual stigma (Almaguer, 1991; Carrier, 1995). Yet, the most recent understanding of male same-sex sexuality is rather defined by the ‘object-choice gay model of homosexuality’ (Thing, 2010: 809), which prevails in most ‘western countries’. The object-choice model implies that only the partner’s gender matters. According to this understanding of homosexuality, a gay man is a man having sex with other men, regardless of his sexual role. Therefore, the conflict around both Mexican perceptions of male homosexuality also impacts the way queer people self-identify and define themselves to others through the apps. These therefore become media for the performance of sexual identities.

Ernesto, for instance, always had the activo role when he started to experience his sexuality in the USA through dating apps. Later, he met a man who was activo as well and convinced him to change his habits for one night. But the experience was disappointing and Ernesto then added on his Grindr profile that he was exclusively ‘top’. Prior to this experience, even though Ernesto had only had sexual intercourse as an activo in the USA, he did not want to specify his sexual role on his profile in order not to exclude the possibility of trying to perform the pasivo role. Ernesto’s decision to modify his user’s profile and to indicate online that he was exclusively activo had the automatic effect to attract only partners who identified as pasivos or internacionales ¹¹ (sexually versatile). The reference to the sexual role on users’ profiles tends to further fix an aspect of their sexual identity (e.g. the category top/bottom/versatile) that was perhaps more unstable in the past. Consequently, the indications these men decide (or avoid) to specify online have direct effects on the experiences they have through these platforms. That is why I suggest that the use of gay apps induces a new relationship to sexuality while abroad. The perspective of gay dating apps provides an entry point for understanding the issues at stake regarding trajectories of identity, desire and intimacy among queer migrants. In today’s context, they appear as an essential tool to further analyse what Cantú (2009) called the ‘sexuality of migration’.

Thus, sexual experiences are integral to the migration trajectory. But this does not imply that queer sexuality is necessarily a motivation for relocation. Rather, it stresses the constant and complex interplay between migration experiences and non-normative sexualities. Thinking the ‘migration of sexuality’ through the use of gay dating apps may therefore lead us to further understand the various and changing meanings attached to sexual experiences, identities and subjectivities during gay men’s migration and post-migration experiences.

Queer migration and post-migration experiences

Some of the previous insights lead me to understand these experiences as integral to the migration experience. Indeed, I would argue that feelings of loneliness, geographical distance from relatives and cosmopolitan encounters seem to be more relevant factors for the participants than ‘American culture’ as such. Thus, I suggest that there is more emphasis on the relocation itself than the origin or the destination of the participants.

Previous literature on queer migrants’ use of geosocial media has shown that, for many of these men, navigating on gay dating apps in their country of origin – prior to their relocation – was a useful way to escape oppression they could suffer outside of these networks. Drawing on their investigation among diasporic gay men in Belgium, Dhoest and Szulc (2016: 7) have found that ‘such platforms offered the first introduction to gay culture, where they chatted before meeting men offline’. In addition, Shield (2017: 256–257) argues that ‘the ways immigrants use gay dating profiles in Denmark or Sweden do not differ greatly from the ways they used social media – even ‘gay’ social media – in their countries of origin.’ Consequently, prior research considers migrant men’s use of these tools as a continuum. However, the stories of the participants detailed earlier differ from Shield’s data. Indeed, the men interviewed here did not use such mobile apps in their country of origin, even though some of them had already come out and were involved in the gay community in Mexico City. Furthermore, the interviewees stopped using these apps when they came back to Mexico, as Antonio’s case illustrates:

People don’t have the same expectations here. For example, in Mexico there are many people hiding their face [on their profile picture] because they want to remain anonymous. In the US, at least in Dallas, no one cares. Actually, when I tried using Grindr in Mexico City, a few weeks after I came back, it reminded me of all the ghosts I wanted to forget. You know, people hiding, scared of their family, of homophobia. I had dealt with that, it’s done for me. I don’t want to go back to these issues. And people on Grindr in Mexico City are too complicated for me. So I just deleted the app, all the apps, and now I don’t use them anymore.

In addition, while the participants were both gay/bisexual and Mexican, it seemed obvious for them to start socializing through LGBTQ networks rather than Mexican ones. This could be explained by the heteronormativity of the Mexican diaspora in the USA (Cantú, 2009; Thing, 2009, 2010), but I would also stress that gay dating apps enable them to escape their milieu and to satisfy their cosmopolitan aspirations. Antonio, for instance, told me about his attraction toward ‘people from other countries’:

[Talking about the partners he was looking for in the USA] I have like a fetish. I’m very attracted by people from other countries. I really like to learn from them. The Mexicans, I can already meet them in Mexico. [Talking about the partners he is now looking for in Mexico] Look, maybe it’s just a stupid dream but I intend to get someone who isn’t from here, from Mexico. I want to discover other countries. I want to experience other things. Mexican boys, I already know them. So I’d like to discover other cultures.

In the end, it is striking that, despite differences in their stories, the men I interviewed enjoyed ‘sexual freedom’ and greater self-confidence after relocating at some point but, paradoxically, they did not really adopt the ‘liberation narrative’ (Luibhéid and Cantú, 2005) as their own. Indeed, none of them associated these positive experiences with US values of (sexual) freedom. Then, the way they discovered these tools abroad and came to create sociability, their association with cosmopolitan aspirations and the discontinuity in their use are several factors that tend to show how geosocial gay dating apps may influence migration and post-migration experiences.

Conclusion

Throughout this article, I have shown that gay dating apps represent an essential insight for understanding migration and post-migration experiences and queer sexual subjectivities for gay and bisexual Mexican men who migrated to the USA. Their original purpose (finding sex partners) is sometimes diverted for new forms of sociability, which enhance queer migrants’ agency in the integration process. I have then emphasized the new context in which these men have come to use dating apps. Their discovery of the apps in the USA and their renunciation of them back in Mexico demonstrate how these are directly associated with migration experiences. Therefore, unlike the conclusions of prior research on queer migrants and dating apps, there is no continuum in the participants’ use of these tools.

Thus, interviews with the participants reveal that gay dating apps contribute to fill a lack of sociability in the host country. They are used not only to find sexual partners, but also to build new networks and escape the restrictive circle of the diaspora. Consequently, the apps enable Mexican queer migrants to manage their trajectories with more agency. As the examples discussed throughout this article illustrate, and because geo-localized gay dating apps are now one of the main ways to meet partners within the gay community, it is crucial to further take into account the role played by these technologies in the experiences and the sexual subjectivities of queer migrants. Indeed, dating apps are not simply a continuity of pre-existing LGBTQ social networks but, instead, they contribute to profoundly change queer relations. Because they have an increasing influence within the gay subculture (both locally and globally), these technologies profoundly reshape gay men’s relationship to intimacy, sociability and sexuality.

Finally, I believe further research on these issues may provide new insights on ‘queer friendship’. In the wake of Foucault’s theory on ‘friendship as a way of life’, some social scientists have paid attention to the reconfiguration of networks and relationships among queer people. In the early 1990s, Weston’s Families We Choose (1991) was a powerful call to rethink gay and lesbian ways of making ‘kinship as an extension of friendship’ (1991: 118). Allen, in his ethnography (2011) of black lesbians and gay men in Cuba, conceptualized ‘friendship as a mode of survival’ (2011: 129) for this community and found that friendship was a powerful way to resist racism and homophobia in the Cuban context. Therefore, I would suggest that gay dating apps could also be considered as a new source of sociability for gay and bisexual men, especially in a context of migration where people often experience greater instability. Indeed, they provide a new way of making interconnected friends, lovers, and partners. They represent a new framework of relationships in a new place, far from family members, peers and other relatives.