How politics and dating in India expose the fault lines of love, privilege, and belonging

In 2025, politics and dating in India have become inseparable. Shared interests and like-mindedness, core values, physical attraction and lifestyle are no longer the only parameters that dictate one’s choice in finding a partner. For young Indians, politics and relationships are no longer mutually exclusive, and dating with different political views can often tell a lot about how the other person approaches certain fundamental decisions. And if a difference in political ideologies isn’t enough of a dealbreaker, political ignorance is the new red flag. 

In 2024, Tinder introduced stickers like ‘Voting Partner Needed’ and ‘I Voted’ in India. So, users of the dating app could decide whether to swipe left or right, based on the person’s political awareness and priority to vote. “Three out of four Gen Zs say it’s important to date someone who shares their political views and civic values, with 60 per cent preferring to date someone who votes. One in three find a match more attractive if they take elections seriously,” shares Aditi Shorewal, Communications Lead for Tinder in India and Korea.

Why politics and dating in India are inseparable today

Politics is personal.  In July 2017, a couple in Uttar Pradesh reportedly called off their wedding because of a fight over Prime Minister Narendra Modi. In March 2025, on the finale of Season 8 of the British reality dating show Love Is Blind, contestant Sara Carlton rejected her match due to differences in political views on the Black Lives Matter movement, same-sex marriages, and COVID-19 vaccines. 

“A person’s politics reflects their value system. If they don’t care about equality and human rights, it’s telling of their lack of empathy and their moral compass, because when politics touches upon freedom and identity, you can’t just ‘agree to disagree’. We’re a polarised society that’s still learning how to balance inclusivity with strong convictions. But you can’t ignore [issues such as] the debate around the locking up of stray dogs in Delhi, or the Kolkata rape case,” says Tshering Choden Wangdi, a 28-year-old brand strategist in Darjeeling-Mumbai. In 2024, Wangdi cancelled a Hinge date when she learned the person was serving in the Israeli military force. In such a scenario, dating with different political viewswouldn’t sit well with her.  

One’s political stance isn’t just about which political party or candidate you’re going to vote for. It also makes its way into everyday conversations, including those on first dates. For instance, Wangdi was once late for a date because of ill-kept, potholed roads in Mumbai. “So, talking about the corruption [within the local governing bodies] that led to it was inevitable,” she says, adding that she doesn’t recall her parents conversing as much about politics. “Politics was treated as a dirty word in India for a long time. But today, talking about it is considered intelligent, if you know what you’re saying and it’s your own opinion.” 

Young Indians do care about political compatibility in relationships 

In the last three decades, India has seen structural changes that have enhanced its citizens’ agency: Privatisation, global awareness further propelled by social media, and a rise in opportunities for the youth to grow financially. “That’s why young Indians aren’t just seeking partners based on practicality but also emotional compatibility, and hence, political alignment,” says Vidushi Gupta, 32, a doctoral researcher in Sociology at the Delhi School of Economics. 

“Though politically, India has seen an emphasis to go back to one’s roots. While the country still doesn’t have youth leaders, it has those who have a vested interest in perpetuating patriarchal notions in the society,” adds Gupta. 

But there’s also a growing awareness as people realise global events can impact their lives. “Today, more information is available, freely accessible and so, people have enough evidence to support their political stance and can come up with well-rounded reasons to stick to their ground firmly. And the marginalised, who could not institutionally voice the political differences, are speaking up today, world-over,” says sociologist Shambhobi Bagchi.

Be it Israel’s 2023 invasion of Gaza, where nearly 12,000 children were acutely malnourished in July—the highest monthly figure ever recorded according to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs—or the Black Lives Matter movement that went global after George Floyd's videotaped death in police custody in 2020 went viral. 

Or even the #MeToo movement, sparked in 2017 when reports alleging Harvey Weinstein of decades of sexual abuse surfaced, prompting actor Alyssa Milano to tweet, encouraging women who had experienced sexual harassment or assault to reply with "Me too". In 2018, the movement gained momentum in India. 

In India, politics is no longer just having an opinion, but also boils down to personal ethics. “Social media has amplified polarisation and turned people’s political stances into public identities,” observes psychiatrist Chandni Tugnait. “So, political beliefs are now seen as indicators of core values, empathy, equality, freedom or privilege. Shared values around consent, bodily autonomy, climate, or inclusivity are often non-negotiables,” she adds.

Former entrepreneur and co-founder of Aara Health Ahilya Mehta ended a long-term relationship when thoughts about getting married and raising children with her then-partner came into the picture. “You can compromise on finances, lifestyle, hobbies, and even your friend groups. But, asking to compromise your value system is asking for a lot. Especially if it’s for the rest of your life. A lifetime of love requires a hell lot of effort, and if your values are not aligned, it’s even more difficult,” says Mehta. 

“You’re never going to have the exact values as someone else or even yourself throughout your life. So, you prioritise what’s important to you—like I do women’s empowerment and focusing on minorities. But, many a times, people blindly follow what they see on social media, without knowing or forming their own thoughts,” says Mehta. “Which is why choosing to be ‘apolitical’ is worse than taking a stand. It’s telling of a certain level of spinelessness, besides a lack of introspection,” shares the 30-year-old who moved from Mumbai to New York last year. 

Being ‘apolitical’ wasn’t always a red flag

A 2024 report by Bumble states that though globally women are less open to dating someone with differing political views, “one in three (33 per cent) women said it’s a turn off if someone they’re dating isn’t aware of current social issues, and 25 per cent said it’s key that their partner actively engages with politics and social causes.”

Moreover, people have also lost their threshold of listening to excuses for their ignorance or lack of awareness. “This is what someone claiming to be apolitical is doing, when politics informs everything: from the dogs on the streets to the condition of the roads, to the traffic one has to deal with. Being apolitical means the person is so privileged that they can’t even be bothered to be informed,” says Rohan Dahiya, a 33-year-old artist living in Delhi, who admits he had zero inclination of knowing about the country’s politics until a few years ago. The Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) protests in 2019 changed that for Dahiya. “I thought if a government can so easily get rid of minorities based on religion, then there is only a short window until they start doing that on the basis of gender identity and sexual orientation. In a queer space, politics informs the future of a relationship,” he says.

For most people, politics only becomes a factor to consider a few years into their careers, when they achieve financial freedom, start paying taxes, and are trying to settle down. “I had the privilege to choose to be apolitical. Privilege impacts political conversations—if you’re privileged enough for something to not impact your life directly, you’ll discuss it but then move on from it, until it becomes a core issue for you,” reflects Ankit Gautam, a 35-year-old who works in education technology. 

For Gautam, that turning point came in September 2024 when he was stopped from donating blood at a Delhi hospital due to restrictions affecting queer communities. It forced him to read up about India’s policies and politics.  “If I am dying in a hospital, and I want my partner to be able to take a medical call, it’s still impossible in India. I won’t care if the country’s GDP is the strongest!” says Gautam. 

The silence on political issues often goes beyond just indifference. “It can be as polarising as having opposing views. Choosing not to take a stand on crucial issues often benefits the status quo, and that, too, is a political choice,” says Tugnait.  

Navigating political differences in dating: Is a middle path possible? Some, like Mumbai-based lawyer Rusty Chaudhary, 28, still choose the ‘apolitical’ tag. Or, call it ‘centrally-aligned’. Which means Chaudhary admits he can make his peace with a partner belonging to a business family that supports a political party or government if it is giving them benefits. “It also means the politics hasn’t seeped into their value system,” explains Chaudhary, who has had women lose interest due to his alignment. 

But even Chaudhary, an atheist who wants to raise his kids as such, rules out partners with extreme political views. “Because [in Chaudhury’s experience] the chances of someone right-aligned in India being stanchly Hindu is quite high,” he shares. “People today get offended easily and are willing to throw fits over political views because they can no longer ‘agree to disagree,’” says Chaudhary, explaining why he chooses the middle path. 

It’s not impossible to talk about politics and not lose your cool. Gautam, whose partner of three-and-a-half years has different political beliefs, knows their main bone of contention: Gautam’s view that the social fabric of the country is dwindling,  versus his partner’s focus on the positive development in the country. “I feel the regressiveness will set India back, because no advancement will be sustainable if the most populated country doesn’t treat its citizens right,” says Gautam, recalling a major fight he had with his partner. After hours of arguing about the power of PR and branding in the age of social media in influencing people’s minds, which left them feeling helpless, they decided to call it quits for the sake of their sanity. Though they felt the repercussions of the argument for days. 

“People have to be empathetic when views don’t match. It is a culmination of how a person was raised and their personal experiences. That’s how people made different religious views work for them historically, even though it’s still a fight in India,” says Gautam, proving why communication trumps political alignment in sustaining a relationship. 

This is resonant in 35-year-old Andrea Hooper’s relationship, where both people are quick to admit when they are wrong. “He [her partner] leans right, due to his upbringing and religious beliefs… But he’s not rigid about it. Everyone is entitled to their own political opinion as long as they do not force it upon others,” says Hooper, a content writer from Faridabad, who has been dating her partner for six months. “There are more important things—like respect for you as a person and your time—and how your partner treats you,” she adds. 

A wave of personalised, political intolerance

Healthy discourse is vital because the problem isn’t about differing opinions. “It’s when political beliefs touch personal values and agreeing to disagree can feel like erasing one’s core identity or sense of safety. If someone’s political stance invalidates the other’s lived experiences or fundamental rights, it stops being a difference in opinion and becomes a divide in values, which is much harder to bridge,” explains Tugnait. 

As communication is a crucial tool in order to co-exist, Dahiya, too, has tried to understand the perspectives of right-leaning dates, which was anyway difficult for him to wrap his head around, given that these were queer men catering to a religion-focused political thought. “Being religious and queer don’t balance or coincide,” says Dahiya, who has had ugly conversations on dates when they assumed he’s left-leaning as a means of following the ‘mainstream’.  “Social media algorithms form an echo chamber of your views, feeding into intolerance because you are only speaking to other people who believe in the same things as you,” he says. 

This rise of political intolerance on a personal level highlights a shift in how individuals in Indian society are defining identity, belonging, and autonomy. 

“Traditionally, India’s joint family systems emphasised collectivism, compromise, and harmony, often at the cost of personal expression. So, this growing ‘intolerance’ is less about aggression and more about non-negotiable selfhood. It signals a transformation from community-defined roles to self-defined identities. Humans are still social beings, but now they seek connections that honour authenticity, not just approval,” says Tuganit.  

Bagchi adds, “Maybe on some level, ‘intolerance’ is needed. Because the idea of a tolerant society can only come about through intolerances. In reality, a tolerant society would translate to the powerful staying in power, and those who don’t have a way of voicing their concerns remaining suppressed.  Our idea of forming an identity is dependent on defining the ‘other’. For which, they must also be given space to speak up.” 

In India, the ‘other’ is not abstract. It includes those at the margins of caste, religion, gender, sexuality and language, whose voices remain central to democracy. Politics has entered the grammar of intimacy in India in ways earlier generations did not confront. A date can unravel over silence on the CAA, a relationship over apathy, or compatibility over queer rights and women’s autonomy. For young Indians, politics and dating in India are no longer abstract debates but realities that shape how relationships begin, survive or end.