The “Tea” App and the New Barbarism 

I don’t know that Helen Andrews’s comments on the great “feminization” suffice to describe the abyss into which our rule of law has recently fallen. This abyss is exemplified by the “Tea” app, one that, in my opinion, should never have existed in a civilized world.  

For those who aren’t familiar with this strange new app, here are the facts. Sometime in 2023, a new app was developed that would help women date “more safely.” With access reserved exclusively to female users, the Tea app was meant to be a space where women could share questions about someone they just met, seeking to confirm whether he had any skeletons or red flags (married? criminal history? etc.). If that sounds decent and reasonable at first glance, it’s worth noting that the “women-only” access means any men who are flagged have no opportunity to see, know about, or confront the accusations made against them on the app. 

A few days ago, one of my former interns at the Austin Institute sent me a long text about this app, letting me know that, over the summer, it had become a huge trend among Gen Z. Since I knew nothing about it, he explained its main features and then honestly asked me for my opinion. He shared his sense that something about it was off, “dystopian,” he argued, and “similar to a social credit system.” “It furthers the divide between Gen Z,” he added, “because they are now doing background checks before going on dates.”  

If only these were true background checks, the app might be more legitimate. In the business context, background checks first require the consent of the person being investigated. As an employer, I am simply not entitled to be privy to someone’s past—not unless they want to share. The same should be true in our real-life experiences, lest we go back to calling people lepers or making them wear bells in public.  

But back to the facts. This young man added that he understands how women may feel unsafe when dating strangers and will see this app as a helpful tool. Furthermore, he stressed how he did not feel personally endangered, as he is a very good man and has nothing to hide. He simply wondered if the existence of the app was consistent with the principles “America” lives by.  

My answer was clear: No. 

The app goes beyond securing women’s safety and crosses a boundary into gossip and, in some cases, defamation. I told my intern he was right to worry about the app. Yes, he is a good guy, but what would stop a jilted former lover from posting false and defamatory information on the app? To allow such reckless information sharing without the consent of the subject is un-American, even barbaric. 

To our surprise, Apple removed the app from its store just hours after our exchange. Soon, God willing, it may be shut down altogether. But the underlying problem that led to its creation remains.  

The problem that apps like this one reveal is that users have forgotten not only what a fair trial is but also why we deem such a right “fundamental” in a free society. It is also strikingly ironic how the definition of “privacy” has expanded radically in the last few decades, then suddenly contracted: first, we cultivated a culture where a “right” to privacy lay in the “penumbras” of the Fourteenth Amendment, but now, subjects of public gossip lack the ability to see and confront information being shared about them online.  

I earlier mentioned Helen Andrews’s incendiary piece on the great feminization of culture. In her view, a legal field that is dominated by women will inevitably adopt traits and features particular to female nature, such as compassion and safety, while abandoning those that are more typically masculine, such as litigiousness. The Tea app, in this respect, may just be evidence of that. To protect the safety of their own “tribe” or “group,” women disregard the rights of others—who in this case are men but may very well be any kind of outsiders—prioritizing feelings over truth.  

Yet I do not think that the great feminization theory fully explains this cultural phenomenon. The real problem, in my opinion, is not one of gender, or of institutions losing their “gendered” traits. The crisis is one of character and the integrity (or perhaps the lack thereof) of our civilization.  

I speak of character and civilization because the problem revealed by apps like Tea is that we have forgotten the principles on which the West was built. The equal dignity of every man commands respect for each person. This, in turn, means that everyone has a right to speak in his or her own defense, responding to clear and determined allegations, and that each person has a right to be judged by a third and impartial judge. These, I argue, are the characteristics of the civilized West: traits that distinguish a free and just society, oriented toward truth, from a dictatorial system where violence, utility, and power are the only legitimate aims.  

My young intern, sympathizing with his female friends and with their need to feel safe in a dating world where anonymous people could be impostors, drug addicts, and even sex traffickers, asked me how his generation might move forward in a way that respects privacy while protecting women. 

My first proposal: let’s abandon dating apps, once and for all. People are more than pictures and lists of qualities. Screens will never replace embodied encounters. In-person encounters may also address women’s safety concerns. In real life, dating often arises from an organic relationship that develops over time, allowing both parties to vet each other honestly. The activities or places where we meet are already indicative of who we are, what we like, and what we value.  

But that’s not what I told my intern. In the brief space of a text, my reply was probably even more provocative. I told him that young women should stop wearing the shortest shorts and tanks when going on a first date with someone they met on a screen. I told him they should bring friends to the date and meet before sunset.  

All this being said, I know what it means to be scared. As women, we feel vulnerable no matter how much pepper spray we carry in our bags or how much self-defense we learn. No black belt can make up for the fact that female bodies can be violated in a manner that does violence not only to our physical selves, but to our unique capacity to nurture and give life. This is why it is up to us, as women, to be our first protectors: of our lives, privacy, and intimacy. Instead of relying on apps like Tea, perhaps we can, instead, invite friends over and run our concerns through a more reliable filter: the thoughts, impressions, and wisdom of those who know and love us, off-screen.  

Image licensed via Adobe Stock.