<i>Digital Intimacies: Queer Men and Smartphones in Times of Crisis</i> , by Jamie Hakim, James Cummings, and Ingrid Young

In Digital Intimacies: Queer Men and Smartphones in Times of Crisis, Jamie Hakim, James Cummings, and Ingrid Young present a body of work that delves beyond the initial ideas about hook-up culture and apps such as Grindr. The authors examine broader definitions surrounding queer men’s intimate relationships and digital media. The book makes a critical contribution to media studies and queer theory by examining the everyday digital practices of queer men, particularly in the context of the COVID-19 global pandemic. The authors situate their analysis within the overlapping crises of the pandemic, centered around key events that further shaped online interactions, including the introduction of “safety bubbles,” the Black Lives Matter movement, anti-LGBTQ+ hostility, and economic insecurity.The pandemic itself pivoted the authors’ work to solely online during a time when digital communication became the main avenue of communication across the globe. The authors selected a diverse group of forty-three UK-based queer men and conducted in-depth interviews about their smartphone-mediated intimacies. The participants were recruited across two locations, London and Edinburgh, with attention focused on the different experiences of the queer participants across race, gender, identity, age, and disability. Using a variety of recruitment methods, including social media, community partners, word of mouth, and paid advertising on the hook-up app Scruff, allowed the authors to specifically recruit trans and nonbinary participants and participants of color to boost the number of participants.The research approach and engagement with participants were shaped by the authors’ queer, gendered, and racialized identities. The qualitative data from the interviews establish two important themes: vulnerability and control. Additional key themes of the research center on race and racism, trans lives and transphobia, the pandemic, temporality, and “safe” spaces.The book begins by defining key terms—queer men, smartphones, and intimacy, and how the authors applied those terms within the interviews. The research encompasses a number of digital platforms, including SMS, camera-based platforms, and the phone itself, to navigate the various ways of digital intimacy through a smartphone. The research itself is innovative; previously very little research existed around queer men’s culture of intimacy in relation to the smartphone, and that research was more general.The interviews touch on several pressing issues among the queer community, including digital platform discrimination, digital racial fetishism, and the uneven burdens of online self-representation.Furthermore, apps and digital platforms establish various meanings of digital intimacies to different participants. The digital experience is not always in the form of hooking up; while that may be the case for some, it does not apply to all. The authors include a number of examples of these experiences and how they vary from one participant to the next.The authors discuss neoliberalism and how it fits into the framing of the interviews, including references to better understand how it applies to the research at hand. It is argued that queer men have been understood to be one of the chief beneficiaries of neoliberal hegemony (19). This framework lays the foundation on understanding cis, white, middle-class gay men’s role in neoliberalism.The authors argue that these men have largely been protected from culture-war rhetoric. This historically privileged position has often left out other categories of queer people, including trans people, femme people, and queer people of color. These categories of queer people challenge cultural hegemony and are the key disruptors in dismantling the sector of cis, white, middle-class gay men. The foremost approach to shaking up the system is through the art of making individuals uncomfortable. It is this action that begins to rattle the bedrock and allows protest to take shape against societal norms.The book includes examples of how UK politics is defined within neoliberalism by looking at key shifts through the election of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in 1979 and the election of Prime Minister Tony Blair in 1997. Furthermore, it examines critical moments in queer history that illustrate the authors’ viewpoints as they relate to the body of research at hand. An understanding of these multiple layers of neoliberalism paints a concise picture of how it shapes the authors’ narrative. This historical context lays the cultural foundation that allows the reader to navigate the complexities of the research and interviews.The authors examine a number of debates over the impact that smartphones have had on queer men’s cultures of intimacy. It was surprising to learn that overall media representations of queer men’s interactions with smartphone apps such as Grindr are overwhelmingly negative. As the authors point out, the Grindr app, the most widely used gay “dating” app in the United Kingdom, is linked to news stories about assault, robbery, ransom, and murder. When looking at the field of “digital intimacies,” established in the 2010s, the authors note that the field has produced a wealth of scholarship that problematizes, and often flat-out contradicts, the spurious assumptions of this sex-tech panic media (7). While the authors do not stray from the problems queer men face while using these technologies, they do not support the claims made by the panic media.Digital Intimacies is set against the backdrop of COVID-19, a time period when racism, homophobia, and economic insecurity were at tipping points. The authors include key events that further shaped the pandemic years, including Brexit (the United Kingdom’s withdrawal from the European Union) and the volatile politics of Donald Trump.Throughout the interviews there is a consistent theme of how the ebbs and flows of the pandemic caused the participants to change the way they used social platforms or shift how they interacted due to the restrictions placed by lockdowns. As the pandemic progressed and digital landscapes shifted, so did the way in which the participants chose to interact or not interact through digital platforms. The authors examine everyday forms of digital communication—SMS, sexting, social media browsing, video platforms, and dating apps—and argue that these actions are not merely passive behaviors but active forms of communication, self-expression, and even survival.A core strength of the book is its attention to intersectionality. The authors highlight how race, class, gender identity, and location shaped participants’ digital intimacies differently. The diverse group of participants showcases how a white cis man’s digital experience can be overtly different from that of a trans man or a nonbinary-identifying individual.The book touches on additional factors that can influence smartphone digital intimacies, such as drug use, sex addiction, sex work, and HIV status. Rather than romanticize digital intimacies, the authors dig deep into the complexities of digital communities, exploring the various degrees of connection one might explore, the desire for connection, and how connection can be harmful in some cases.Another key discussion in the book is the dialogue around playspaces and consent—consent being crucial in any type of interaction, from a digital intimacy setting to in-person experiences. The authors discuss this at length, including personal interactions and how clubs or bars enforce and stress the importance of consent in such settings as a playspace or darkroom (a meeting space where people often engage in sexual activities).It is argued that safety and liberation are not dichotomous ideas. To a queer person the importance of feeling safe in a “safe space” is critical when contemplating taking risks in a darkroom setting. The dialogue continues in an interview that delves at great length into a personal experience in a playspace setting. The excerpt is entwined with ethnographic details that highlight the topsy-turvy experience one can have in a playspace. The experience showcases that one visit can vary from the next, further shaping the conversation around safer-space discourse.In my view, as an individual who identifies as nonbinary/gender fluid, some of the experiences the participants share, paired with the authors’ analysis of certain digital platforms, speak to some of my own personal experiences. An interview with one participant stood out to me in their experience with hearing the words “I’m cool with trans guys. But, I mean I don’t date them; I’m dick gay” (119). An example of a digital interaction of my own included being praised on social media app Instagram for having a unique style and being so unapologetically me. In comparison, encountering one or two of those individuals on another digital platform, such as Grindr or Scruff, is a completely different experience. They have no interest in chatting because of my unique fashion approach and out-of-the-box flair; the praise on Instagram is merely a front. While my experience varies from that of the participant, it highlights the often-superficial experience one can have on a digital platform.Digital platforms can serve as great convenience for some, and while I have had positive experiences of my own, including meeting my now ex-husband through an online dating platform, my experiences do vary. The book does an excellent job of giving analysis and authentic examples of the interviewees’ experiences through digital platforms. It gives an accurate tale of how toxic digital platforms can be if you do not fit into the proverbial box. It seems that the further you stand out, the higher your chances of being ignored or blocked, encountering digital platform discrimination, or being shamed for your differences.The book touches on app features such as blocking people, which allows individuals to block users without ever communicating with them. Instead of communicating and saying something like, “I’m not interested,” some seem to find this to be an easier route, and the isolation of the pandemic lockdowns has further shaped online etiquette surrounding these actions. However, this feature does come in handy at times, as described in one of the interviews. If dealing with racism or harassment online, one can not only block an individual but also report them.Returning to interacting with humans post-pandemic was almost a process of relearning how to engage with people in real life. On multiple occasions in a bar setting, I observed a number of patrons on apps such as Grindr, chatting with people zero feet away instead of simply going up to the person for one-on-one conversation. Innovations in digital platforms have come a long way since the days of AOL chatrooms, Gay.com, and old-school cruising, but the reliance on digital platforms can often take away from being in the now or being present with the friends around you.I recommend this book to anyone who is interested in understanding the use of digital platforms through a queer lens. The research presented in Digital Intimacies narrows in on an area of research that was previously lacking and fills a void in media studies.To sum up, Digital Intimacies: Queer Men and Smartphones in Times of Crisis is a significant contribution to queer media studies. Qualitative research is paired with media analysis in a manner that is both rigorous and accessible. While the overall range of diversity among the participants is quite inclusive, I do feel that it could be pushed further if a second edition of the book is pursued. The book serves as a tool to get a better grasp on just how varied online interactions can be for many queer people. I found the book to be a compelling, insightful body of research that speaks to the here and now. It leaves me curious to see how this framework applied to a new group of queer participants in different regions and what the research findings would reveal. Overall, a comprehensive body of research that is relevant to today’s digital landscape and is an excellent contribution to queer literature.