The viral women-only “dating safety” app, Tea, was a digital doxxing site cosplaying as “women empowerment” — and a reputational weapon against men everywhere.
But in a delicious twist of irony, after not one but two massive data breaches, it’s the women behind the screen who are now quaking in their boots.
To quote Michael Scott, “Well, well well, how the turntables.”
Tea wasn’t a step forward. It was a symptom. A glitch in a culture that’s forgotten how to talk to each other face-to-face.
The Tea app was marketed as a breakthrough for women’s safety — a sleek, viral whisper network dressed up as a tech solution for the modern dating world. It promised a digital sisterhood: a space where women could vet men, anonymously share “red flags,” and crowdsource protection in the Wild West of dating apps and swiping right.
But beneath the branding and the TikTok testimonials was something much darker: a platform that enabled digital doxxing with zero accountability, all under the guise of empowerment.
A Yelp for men
Through the app, women could upload a man’s name, number, or social media handle and attach either “green flags” or “red flags” — a kind of Yelp review for men. The intent, we’re told, was noble: Women warn each other about bad actors before wasting time or falling into danger.
But Tea offered none of the structures that real accountability requires. No requirement for evidence. No obligation to identify yourself. No meaningful way for the accused to defend themselves. It’s little surprise that what began as a tool for safety quickly turned into a tool for revenge and humiliation, based on pure speculation in the emotionally charged world of online dating.
And when Tea went viral on TikTok, launching it to the No. 2 spot on the Apple App Store, the stakes got even higher. With millions of users and near-instant exposure, a single anonymous red flag could follow someone indefinitely — without trial, without appeal, and without context.
Twisted irony
Tea just had another viral moment — and it wasn’t because of TikTok. The self-purported anonymous app had not one, but two major data breaches. Though the company reported that the breach exposed 72,000 user images (including driver’s licenses and selfies), other experts weighed in, claiming the breach was bigger than the company was letting on.
A security researcher, Kasra Rahjerdi, told 404 Media that he was able to access more than 1.1 million private messages from Tea’s users. The messages included “intimate” conversations about topics ranging from rape and divorce to abortion and infidelity. Rahjerdi also said that several chats included personal information like phone numbers and locations to meet up.
However ironic the data breach is, it’s largely beside the point. Tea was flawed at its very core. No matter how noble the marketing, the model was always built on anonymity, unverified accusations, and reputational risk without recourse. It didn’t just fail to protect women — it encouraged them to wield unaccountable power over men and called it justice.
Digitized gossip
In the past, warning a friend about a man’s character came with weight. You did it face-to-face. You had to stand behind your words. You risked being wrong. You risked being held accountable. It wasn’t anonymous — it was personal. And because of that, it was taken seriously.
Tea tried to digitize that ancient role of communal discernment and strip it of all responsibility. But accountability without cost isn’t accountability — it’s just gossip. And digital gossip, unlike the whispered kind, doesn’t stay in the room. It stays online. Forever.
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Sure, women can be vengeful or petty. But Tea didn’t explode for that reason. It went viral because so many women are profoundly alone. We’ve lost the webs of embodied community that used to help us navigate love, danger, and everything in between — sisters, mothers, friends, pastors, neighbors. Into that vacuum stepped the algorithm. And it offered us the illusion of safety, in exchange for the erosion of truth, accountability, and community.
Tea wasn’t a step forward. It was a symptom. A glitch in a culture that’s forgotten how to talk to each other face-to-face — and how to seek justice in public, not in secret.
In the end, Tea didn’t just fail to keep women safe. It made all of us — men and women alike — more exposed, more suspicious, and more divided.
Dating apps, Dating, Men and women, Courtship, Doxxing, Tech, Lifestyle, Return
