As Grindr scams in India rise, its LGBTQ+ community fights back

Content warning: This story contains account of violence and abuse that some readers may find upsetting. Resources for support are listed at the bottom of the article.

In New Delhi’s Jangpura area, Samar is sitting in the right corner of his room. Decorated with crocheted wall hangings, fairy lights spread over the mirror, and a table with an ashtray and box of cigarettes on top, he’s glued to his phone. It’s a hot summer’s day – with temperatures soaring above 49C (120F) – and Samar is all alone, apart from his cat, who lies statue-still on the floor.

While scrolling on his phone, it beeps with a push notification. ​“Voila!” he shouts. He has found a date on Grindr. ​“Don’t get too excited and invite him round – don’t make the same mistake as Deepak,” he warns himself. 

When his flatmates are out, Samar usually opens Grindr and starts swiping – he’s looking for a possible date, or even just a friend to walk around the city with. 

He makes a move from his bed, takes a shower, and starts to get dressed. A flowing, white chikankari kurta shirt, white sneakers, blue baggy jeans, an umbrella in one hand, and an off-white sling draped down his shoulder – Samar carefully chooses his outfit.

Though the queer dating scene in India has changed drastically since the historic Navtej Singh Johar v. Union of India 2018 Supreme Court judgement, which decriminalised homosexuality in India, queerphobic attitudes towards the LGBTQ+ community remain prevalent. Hate crimes against the community occur in many forms. From physical assaults and family-driven gay ​“conversion therapy”, to online harassment and institutional discrimination, queer individuals often face hostility in both public and private spheres. 

But now, a new threat looms large over them. The number of reported cases of gay men being extorted through dating apps is increasing – a chilling reminder of the dangers of queer visibility in a society still struggling to reconcile it. Ironically, India is a country that produced the Kama Sutra, worships Ardhanarishvara (a composite Hindu deity that is half male, half female), and marvels at the erotic sculptures adorning its temple walls – yet it remains deeply uncomfortable with queer sex and identities.

Samar boards an electric rickshaw and heads to the metro station. After chatting over the app for an hour, he and his date have decided to meet at Khan Market – an upmarket shopping destination in the south of the city. ​“I don’t know if this person is genuine or fake,” Samar questions himself. ​“I have trust issues with this app.” 

For Samar, this is not the first time meeting someone from Grindr in real life. But, hearing about the experience of his friends and colleagues who use the app, ​“every meeting or date comes with a lot of overthinking”.

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Believing that the people they speak to on Grindr and other queer dating apps are also part of the LGBTQ+ community, closeted folk in India often open up about their sexuality to those that they match with. But it can be turned against them in a flash – finding themselves facing assault, harassment, violence, blackmail and extortion, with scammers weaponising the threat of outing them to families and friends. For queer individuals, the prospect of their family finding out about their sexuality can often be worse than handing over significant amounts of cash to scammers. Stigma often means victims have nowhere to turn. 

Rashmi, a 24-year-old woman in Delhi, found herself isolated when she became a victim of a scam on Grindr. ​“Someone I met on a dating app was blackmailing me for 50,000 rupees (£430), threatening to reveal to my friends and family that I’m a lesbian. This was my first time in a big city, and I wanted to explore the LGBTQ+ scene,” she says.

In Rashmi’s case, the blackmailer – who in reality was a man – had made a fake account to pose on the platform as a fellow lesbian woman. ​“I haven’t complained to the police. My parents would be devastated if they found out that I’m a lesbian,” she says. Her friends later helped her to track down the blackmailer, tracing the number to a gym trainer in Delhi, though they have not taken any further action.

Here in South Delhi, 27-year-old Soham* remembers a time when he was alone at his flat. ​“When I swiped right on a guy’s profile, I expected to have a good time and bond with him,” he says. After talking for over a week, he asked Soham out for a date. ​“It was a very special moment for me,” recalls Soham. They decided to go to Champa Gali – a cute lane in the Saket district filled with cafés, often referred to as a ​“mini Goa in Delhi”.

But the day before they had arranged to meet, Soham’s date messaged him with an alternative proposal on Grindr. ​“He asked me if he could come over to my place for the night, as I had told him I was alone,” says Soham, his voice crackling slightly. 

But as the doorbell rang, Soham instantly knew that something was seriously wrong. ​“I saw three men standing outside my door, and I was shocked,” he says. Soham was shivering from fear. ​“I denied them entry.”

“Well, if you don’t want me to come inside, can you at least give me a glass of water?” the man asked. ​“Wait here and don’t come inside,” replied Soham. As soon as he turned, the man, along with his friends, forcefully barged into his house and started beating him. ​“While walking towards the kitchen, someone banged on my head from behind, and I got knocked unconscious. I found myself naked, and all three men were sitting in front of me.” 

Soham was blackmailed. He says that the group filmed him naked and asked for Rs 80,000 (£680). ​“They threatened me, saying that they would inform my parents.” 

He didn’t file a police complaint because he was afriad that his parents would find out what happened. ​“I gave them everything that I had at that time. Around 25,000 rupees (£210) cash and my Titan watch.”

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In India, LGBTQ+ networks and activists work to bring these scams to light, while providing support to their victims. In one of the incidents reported by the Gandhinagar Queer Pride Foundation (GQPF), a non-profit organisation that amplifies LGBTQ+ voices, a 23-year-old gay man was scammed and assaulted in the Vejalpur area in Ahmedabad. He contacted the GQPF for support, with two team members accompanying him to the police station to help him safely file a police report. Similar stories are posted on a near-daily basis.

In Haryana, Raghav remembers when she was asked out by a cisgender man posing as a trans man on Grindr. Raghav, a 26-year-old trans woman, would log in to Grindr each evening after she got home from work. ​“I started talking to that guy, and within just one week we had made a good bond,” she says. Naturally, a proposition for a date followed. ​“We used to Facetime in the morning, sleep over video calls, and even bathe while keeping the phone on.”

However, when Raghav went out to meet him for the first time, the illusion shattered. ​“For weeks, he made me believe that he really cared about me and loved me,” she says. ​“I had never imagined that things would turn out completely different.”

When she went to meet him, he asked her to get into a black SUV. ​“Everything looked normal, until he stopped the car outside the village and his friend boarded the vehicle,” she says. Afterwards, the car stopped again, and another two men got in. ​“He kept driving, and I couldn’t utter a single word. I knew where things were heading,” says Raghav. 

Later, the car stopped, and Raghav was forced to see nudes that she had sent him. ​“He had recorded me bathing, lying naked on the bed,” she says. ​“I felt both ashamed and broken.”

He was, of course, a scammer. ​“He asked me to give him one lakh (100,000) rupees (£850), or else he would send the photos to my parents,” she remembers. Raghav only had 35,000 rupees (£300) in her account and a small amount of cash on her person, and gave everything to him. She didn’t file a police report either, and when asked why, Raghav says: ​“I was feeling robbed, and I didn’t want my parents to know about this.”

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Grindr, as reported by The Times of India, said it takes its role as a connector for the queer community seriously, and works diligently to provide a safe environment. Acknowledging that there have been instances of bad actors misusing its features, Grindr said it provides guidelines, tips, and other resources to help its users.

“To support our community, we regularly publish and update a holistic security guide and user safety tips on our website. We strongly encourage users to report any suspicious behaviour and utilise our video calling feature to verify connections before meeting in person,” a spokesperson told TOI. ​“In addition, we encourage users to report illegal behaviour within the app or to local authorities. Grindr responds to and cooperates with law enforcement to aid in their investigations of incidents.” Huck has reached out to Grindr for further comment, and will update the story when we receive a response.

While the scams keep haunting the LGBTQ+ community in India, community members are increasingly fighting back and taking stands against the blackmailers. Rahul Upadhyay, GQPF’s director, explains: ​“Across India, local queer groups and collectives have set up support spaces where victims can talk about what they’ve gone through without shame.”

These come via informal peer group chats on WhatsApp or Telegram, or groups led by queer mental health professionals. They also help victims understand their rights, connect them with legal aid, and ensure they don’t feel alone. ​“It’s community care in action,” Rahul continues. 

He explains that queer organisations and activists have also been reaching out to platforms like Grindr, Blued, Tinder, and many others, lobbying and urging them to engage in dialogue and work to prioritise user safety. ​“We’ve asked for stronger moderation, identity verification, and easier reporting tools. But the reality is these platforms are profit-driven.” 

The impact of these scams are not just financial – they’re emotional, mental, and potentially even life-threatening. ​“In response, queer collectives and organisations like ours have started raising awareness both online and offline. Through our monthly community meetups, we talk openly about these incidents, sharing real-life cases and equipping people with safety tools,” Rahul says. 

On board the metro, Samar is about to reach Khan Market. Flaunting his outfit as he steps out of the carriage, Samar quickly realises that something is off. The live location he is following stops near a group of men. ​“First they laughed, and then cornered me while calling me dirty names and slurs.”

Samar labels the day as the worst of his life. After being peppered with slurs and being cornered, Samar manages to flee the situation. Going straight to a nearby café, he treats himself to a cold coffee and a croissant. ​“Whatever my friends had told me, it was all true,” he says, still pondering about what just unfolded. 

Samar boards the metro the opposite way and heads home. Lying still on his bed, he takes out his phone, deletes the Grindr app, and lies down next to his cat. He fantasises over alternative scenarios – beating the shit the men in a fight, and lodging a police complaint. ​“But reality hits different,” he says. ​“It’ll take me months to prove this incident. On top of that, this will cost me my time, my money, and the embarrassment that will come with it.” Samar promises that he will never use dating apps again.

*Names changed for privacy and safety.

Gandhinagar Queer Pride Foundation is a trans-led, queer youth charity. Contact them for support at +91 6353407513, or via email at connect@​gqpfoundation.​org.

Mansi Rathee is a lawyer and journalist based in New Delhi. Follow her on LinkedIn.

Amir Bin Rafi is a Kashmir based journalist. Follow him on Instagram.