My Bleached Brows Are Hot — But Why Don’t My Hinge Matches Agree?

From high-fashion runways to the faces of A-listers like Doja Cat and Kendall Jenner, bleached brows have had a resurgence in recent years. Once a marker of punky subcultures, the barely there brow has trickled into the mainstream, becoming a bold aesthetic statement embraced by those who value experimentation and self-expression. But in the quick-swipe world of online dating — where first impressions are meticulously curated and judgements passed in seconds — could this beauty choice be sabotaging matches? In my case, it certainly is.

I’ve amassed thousands of matches across my 13-year dating app career. Some of those developed into IRL situation- and relationships, others stayed online and, as is the way with modern dating, a large number didn’t get past “hello”. I’m still swiping but in the last two months, my matches haven’t been matching quite like they used to.

After a tough ride in 2024, in the final few months of the year I entered what you could describe as my “fuck it” era. In the same way you might alter your hairstyle after a breakup or buy something extravagant during a so-called midlife crisis, I decided to bleach my brows. It was my way of reclaiming some control after 12 months of being subjected to things that were totally out of my control. I also just think they look pretty sick. So with a box of bleach and some purple toner, I got to it.

As expected, the reaction from my friends — who, like me, aren’t strangers to aesthetic trends that buck the norm — was positive. External validation wasn’t my main reason for the change but I appreciated it all the same. Over on Hinge, however, acceptance of my brows was nowhere to be found. Like, literally nowhere. Not a single man (I’m heterosexual) has liked me back on the app since I put bleach to brow.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so surprised at the reaction (or lack thereof) from the men on Hinge. In a tutorial on how she bleaches her brows, fashion and beauty icon Julia Fox proclaimed the trend is “kind of like a man repellent”. She went on to add “they absolutely hate it”, even going so far as to say her son’s father is “triggered” by them. Yet it was only once I became a “man repeller” myself that I really questioned the reason why.

“Feeling off-put by certain unconventional aesthetics at first swipe is often rooted in social conditioning and our tendency towards lasting first impressions,” says relationship expert Annabelle Knight. She explains that dating apps “prioritise visual cues” and therefore “most users are subconsciously drawn towards beauty standards that are traditional or familiar” — something bleached brows are not.

“Dating apps are microcosms of societal expectations, where traditional attractiveness often dominates,” agrees Chelsea Mtada, senior beauty strategist at SEEN Group, which supports the British Beauty Council. “Bold beauty choices like bleached brows disrupt this norm, eliciting reactions ranging from admiration to confusion or rejection.” 

This “norm” isn’t the only thing these experts think my brows are disrupting. They could also be playing havoc with Hinge’s algorithm. Knight tells me that the bias against my brows could be “further reinforced by app algorithms, which may tend to promote profiles that are more conventional”. This, she says, is because those profiles may receive higher engagement in the form of likes and matches. “[This causes a] never-ending feedback loop where these beauty standards are normalised,” suggests Knight. 

When I put this to Hinge, they said the app’s algorithm is designed to “show you who you are most likely to want to go on a date with and who is likely to want to go on a date with you.” This, according to Hinge, is based on multiple factors: “Who meets the preferences you set (such as age range, distance, family plans, vices, and more) and whose preferences you also meet.” 

Algorithm aside, I’ve noticed rejection of my brows beyond Hinge. I’ve received zero catcalls (thank fuck) since adopting the transformation and while I do still get the occasional stare from men on the street, I get the sense these are more of the “she’s so weird” ilk than the “I’d do her” kind. 

As for who decides what is conventionally attractive, you’re probably just as unsurprised as me to know it’s men. “Our patriarchal society is designed to reinforce very particular notions of power, gender and sexuality, and this extends to what — and who — is considered beautiful,” says Dr Treena Orchard, associate professor at Western University’s School of Health Studies and author of Sticky, Sexy, Sad: Swipe Culture and The Darker Side of Dating Apps. She explains that the “ideal woman” per the patriarchy is “slim, white and with a sexy girl-next-door look”.

“Basically, the more you deviate from the dominant heteronormative cisgender framework, the more you will be viewed as different and unattractive,” she continues. “This is especially true on dating apps, a domain designed primarily by and for the standard cisgender, heterosexual white male.” Perhaps unsurprisingly, Hinge’s founder and CEO, Justin McLeod, matches that very description.

Now we’ve established that bleached brows are perceived — whether consciously or not — as a threat to the patriarchy, it’s no wonder that those who want to uphold it are actively rejecting me. But while I appreciate that my brows are considered such a danger, the patriarchy has existed for centuries so it’s unlikely a few white hairs on my forehead stand a chance of dismantling it. Regardless, Dr Orchard tells me, “Women who exude conformity and safety [will continue to be] viewed by men more favourably than those who dabble in experimentation or innovation.” This is especially true as support for far-right politics rises and governments across the globe tighten their grip on women’s bodily autonomy.

The rejection of unconventional beauty on Hinge, I’m learning, is largely influenced by the deeper message being conveyed. Hattie Awe, a 28-year-old TikToker who has posted about how her fashion choices impact her dating life, also thinks this is the case. “It’s less about self-expression and more about self-assurance and confidence,” she says. “A woman who knows herself and has confidence is intimidating because those women aren't checking in on men and society to inform how they express themselves.”

Mtada agrees. Following unconventional trends “communicates a willingness to stand out, experiment and prioritise personal enjoyment over societal approval,” she says. “It’s a declaration that beauty serves the wearer, not the observer, reflecting an unapologetic commitment to individuality.” Interestingly — or perhaps quite predictably — in spaces where men, the male gaze and the patriarchy are decentred, individuality is welcomed rather than shunned.

Knight continues: “Daters within the LGBTQIA+ community tend to be more accepting of nonconforming physical appearances and aesthetics, compared to those whose dating preferences are heteronormative.” Dr Orchard proposes this is because “they don’t want or need to mirror the dominant culture”.

With that in mind, I reached out to a handful of men to get their perspective on why my brows are so divisive. None of them cited the patriarchy, likely because the beliefs it peddles are subconsciously entrenched, but they did give reasonings such as “I prefer women of a certain type” and “I lean towards more conventional standards”. One man I spoke to suggested I’m looking for love in the wrong place. “Hinge is too mainstream for bleached eyebrows,” he says, telling me I would “perform better if there was an app for people who like certain aesthetics”.

But how niche is too niche when it comes to dating apps? While there are platforms out there tailored to various aesthetic preferences — GROWLR, for example, is an app for gay men with an attraction to larger, hairier men, known as “bears” — I can’t foresee a big market for an app designed for bleached brow fans. (Although bleachedbrowbabes.com does have a ring to it.) 

What’s more, trends like bleached brows aren’t permanent. Tomorrow, next week or next month I could decide my bleached brows have had their moment. Why, then, would I centre my entire dating life around them? My time is much better spent doing more valuable things (like watching The Traitors) than creating niche dating profiles based on the beauty trend I’m currently experimenting with. 

Like Awe, who replies “absolutely the fuck not” when I ask if she’s ever considered “toning down” her self-expression to make dating easier, I have no intention of reverting to my natural brows just to claw back matches on Hinge. “I’ve always questioned whether I would’ve accumulated the same amount of joy, self-love, confidence, self-expression and integrity if I’d spent my 20s in a relationship with others instead of a relationship with myself,” Awe says, echoing my own sentiment perfectly. 

Alicia Lartey, an aesthetician and cosmetic chemistry student, feels the same way. Although stares and uncomfortable questions from others made her feel like “the odd one out” at first, Alicia says that proudly owning her bleached brows made her realise that as long as she loves them, that’s all that matters. “I would rather be happy than be a sheep,” she tells me, explaining she now welcomes the reaction to her aesthetic choices. “My bleached brows have been key in warding off a lot of strange men,” she adds, pointing out how they've become a “litmus test” that allows her to avoid “interactions with uninteresting and judgemental people”.

It’s frustrating that the men who’ve come across my profile can’t seem to look beyond my brows — like, hello, I have an entire personality? — but I’d much rather exist authentically as myself than dilute who I am to appease others. My bleached brows might not be around forever but I know that true connection comes from living unapologetically and the right person won’t just accept my self-expression, they’ll celebrate it.