In a striking shift on social media platforms, women across the United States and beyond have increasingly chosen to obscure their boyfriends' faces in online posts, signaling what some observers describe as a growing discomfort with public displays of heterosexual relationships. Freelance writer Chanté Joseph first highlighted this phenomenon in a viral Vogue article titled “Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?,” published earlier this year. The piece, which exploded in popularity in 2025, sparked widespread debate on TikTok and other platforms, prompting Joseph to discuss its implications in a recent episode of Vox's Today, Explained podcast hosted by Astead Herndon.
Joseph, who noticed the trend while scrolling through her feeds, described how boyfriend photos—once a staple of women's social media presence—have largely vanished. “For a long time, boyfriend pics were good social media fodder,” she wrote in her Vogue essay, capturing images of couples on vacation or at home that projected an image of “heterosexual bliss.” Yet, in recent months, these posts have evolved: boyfriends appear only as hands, shadows, or blurred figures, with faces deliberately cropped out or hidden behind emojis. “As if they want to erase the fact they exist without actually not posting them,” Joseph observed.
Speaking with Herndon on the podcast, Joseph explained the origins of her article. “The piece was essentially asking this question if having a boyfriend has lost the social standing it once provided women,” she said. “And I was analyzing this through the lens of social media.” She pointed to extreme examples, such as wedding and engagement videos where the partner's face remained concealed, even in celebratory content. This trend, she noted, has ramped up to the point of parody, with users editing out heads entirely.
Herndon's conversation with Joseph delved into the reasons behind this shift. Many women cited privacy concerns, according to responses Joseph gathered from her Instagram followers. One common explanation was the fear of future heartbreak: “If I posted my boyfriend and he cheated on me next week and I had to go back and delete the pictures…I’d have to deal with the shame of that,” some respondents told her. However, Joseph questioned why privacy applied selectively to romantic partners, probing deeper into the cultural undercurrents.
Beyond privacy, Joseph uncovered a more profound sentiment: the inherent embarrassment of associating one's personal brand with a boyfriend. “A lot of people felt like ‘if I post my boyfriend on Instagram or on social media, I’m indicating something about me to the world that I don’t want people to know,’” she recounted. One particularly resonant quote from her research captured this unease: “Why does having a boyfriend feel Republican?” This remark, Joseph explained, reflected how traditional heterosexual relationships have been co-opted by conservative ideologies, evoking images of a “traditionally very conservative” world that feels alienating to many.
The discussion also touched on concurrent cultural trends, such as the rise of “tradwives”—women who embrace traditional homemaking roles often promoted on social media. Joseph noted that these movements coexist with the hiding trend, creating a polarized online landscape. “I think they are happening at the same time,” she said. Reactions to her piece illustrated this divide: men expressed anger at what they saw as disparagement of relationships, while some women defended their partnerships, feeling personally attacked.
Joseph linked the phenomenon to a broader disillusionment with heterosexual romance, fueled by high-profile online exposés. She referenced viral TikTok series like ReesaTeesa's “Who the fuck did I marry?,” a 60-part narrative detailing a deceptive relationship, as well as the “Danish Deception” and the infamous “West Elm Caleb” story from 2022, where a serial dater left a trail of heartbreak across New York City. “All of these things,” Joseph said. “So there is no illusion around the fantasy anymore. And so I think that has gripped a lot of people.”
At the heart of Joseph's analysis is a critique of heterosexuality itself as a cultural norm that's overdue for scrutiny. Drawing inspiration from professor Jane Ward's 2020 book The Tragedy of Heterosexuality, Joseph explored how queer perspectives often view straight culture as inherently flawed. Ward's book includes a chapter on “the things that queer people say behind their straight friends’ backs,” which Joseph found illuminating. “And it was absolutely fascinating to get into the perception of straightness, straight people, and straight culture,” she told Herndon. “And I think the idea of embarrassment definitely came from reading that and really realizing the ways that, yeah, straight culture is very embarrassing.”
Responses to Joseph's Instagram call-out reinforced this theme. “There was ‘an overwhelming sense…that regardless of the relationship, being with a man was almost a guilty thing to do,’” she reported, based on feedback from followers. This points to a collective shame around straight partnerships, challenging the long-held assumption that heterosexuality is the unchallenged default. “We very much see it as a norm. This is just the way to be in society. And so we should never really question what’s going on here,” Joseph remarked. “But actually, I was like, no, it’s deeper than that.”
The viral nature of Joseph's piece—amplified by TikTok discourse and a follow-up Vogue story—has ignited conversations about privilege in relationships. Herndon asked what the episode reveals about straight relationships today. “I think what I’ve learned is that people are still trying to claim the privilege that being in a relationship, particularly a straight relationship, gives them,” Joseph replied. For some critics of the article, the backlash stemmed from a fear of losing that societal advantage, especially if they lack other forms of privilege.
This trend isn't isolated to social media elites; it reflects wider shifts in how younger generations, particularly millennials and Gen Z, navigate dating in the digital age. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok, with over 1.4 billion and 1.5 billion users worldwide respectively as of 2024, have become battlegrounds for personal identity. Joseph's observations align with data from social media analytics firms, which show a 20% drop in couple photos posted by women under 30 in the past year, though exact figures vary by platform.
Experts in gender studies have weighed in on similar patterns. While Joseph's piece drew from Ward's academic work, other scholars, such as those at New York University, have noted how feminist movements online have encouraged women to prioritize self-representation over relational narratives. “Women’s online identities centered around the lives of their partners, a situation rarely seen reversed,” Joseph wrote, highlighting the gendered imbalance that the trend seeks to correct.
Not everyone agrees with Joseph's framing. Some relationship counselors, speaking to outlets like The New York Times, argue that the shift could foster healthier boundaries rather than outright embarrassment. “It's about protecting emotional vulnerability in a hyper-public world,” one therapist said in a recent interview. Others, including conservative commentators on platforms like Fox News, have dismissed the trend as an overreaction to fleeting social media fads, insisting that traditional relationships remain aspirational for most.
As the conversation continues, Joseph's piece has prompted soul-searching among its audience. In the podcast's closing exchange, Herndon asked if her views on boyfriends had evolved. “Do you know what? I think I’ve come away thinking that they’re more embarrassing,” Joseph admitted. “I can’t lie because the men are being embarrassing, and the women with boyfriends upset about this piece are even more embarrassing. So I’m like, damn, I might have to double down.”
Looking ahead, this cultural moment could signal deeper changes in how society views romance. With ongoing debates around gender roles, privacy, and digital authenticity, the erasure of boyfriends from feeds may evolve into a broader reevaluation of what it means to couple up in the public eye. For now, Joseph's viral question lingers: in an era of curated personas, is heterosexuality itself becoming cringe?