Does an overt expression of affection online have consequences for sapphic couples?

In an age when couplehood is becoming performative for the sake of garnering attention on social media, how do sapphic couples navigate being visible despite the risks involved?

“Uff, second-hand trauma!” quipped my friend Prithvi Vatsalya when I brought up the recent news of Anjali Chakra and Sufi Malik breaking up with each other, mere weeks prior to their wedding day. From the legalese-esque language in their post-breakup social media post after years of giving us a sneak peek into their personal lives, to the public-shaming directed towards Sufi in the trial by comments, for having engaged in infidelity (“Can we just say Sufi cheated?” insists Vatsalya), a personal matter has turned into one for public consumption by the larger Brown sapphic community.

For the uninitiated, Chakra and Malik were a queer, sapphic couple who drew their roots from India and Pakistan respectively, and reside in the United States. They gained internet fame soon after their photoshoot together went viral in 2019. Subsequently, they began vlogging on Youtube and Instagram about their lives together. Catapulting into popularity, they launched a bi-coastal lifestyle and bagged several branded deals along the way. Their posts seemed to fill a gaping hole in the world of digital content—the need for visible Brown sapphos (a.k.a. women-loving-women/trans-men/non-binary folx). In fact, until their breakup, one could say that they were an unchallenged monopoly in this niche space, in terms of popularity and reach. This is not to say that other sapphic couples haven’t been churning out content based on their own lives; however, the digital space is slow to warm up to them. From algorithmic biases to safety concerns, the reasons are both myriad and layered. 

Reclaiming agency

For Aalo (24, she/her) and Emon (36, he/she), it was a conscious decision to share content featuring them together on social media. While Aalo was already out on the Internet, for Emon, it felt new and exciting. They wanted to document and share their va-‘gay’-bond life (@vagaybonds_on_wheels) as they were constantly on the road for work. From living in Mumbai for several months to now being in Hyderabad, their travel adventures together began to gain more views online. Initially, the response was not so great. “Our early strategy to bring traffic to our page was to post our videos in collaboration with different pages [that had a significant following]. But a lot of them turned down topics related to the LGBTQIA+ community, with explanations like: ‘we have mixed viewers’ and ‘a lot of people won’t understand’; or ‘please don’t mention the gay couple part as people might unfollow us’,” recounts Aalo.

For me, this brings back irksome memories of people assuming that my ex-girlfriend and I were besties, disregarding the fact that we had known each other for less than a year but hung out together all the time. To be out and proud as a queer woman (or a sapphic person) is not just about being acknowledged for our individual identities but to also reclaim our agency to choose our romantic partners in a heteronormative, patriarchal world.

Combatting hate

As much as Brown sapphics love to find posts from relatable couples online, popularity doesn’t always translate to good news. Shruti (43, she/her) and Pooja (39, she/her) are a cis-lesbian couple living in Mumbai. For them, creating content (@pawlyamorous) wasn’t a premeditated choice but was born out of being at an age and stage in their lives where they could “handle the consequences of being out”. What began with Shruti posting photos showing off her gorgeous femme girlfriend, soon garnered attention from the wider queer community. “It became enjoyable to post because queer audiences were interacting with our content. We know how important it is to have community and we see this as paying forward what we gained from queer people and lesbians who were out when we were younger and exploring our lesbian selves. There weren’t too many back then,” explains Shruti. However, not all is rosy.

The counsellor-duo have co-created the Queer-Affirmative Counselling Practice at Mariwala Health Initiative, and teach the course together.

Brands, too, do not engage with sapphic digital creators for regular programming. They’re often tokenised for Pride Month or Valentine’s Day only. “I remember shooting a video with the tagline ‘love beyond identities’ and all the big pages featuring Kolkata refused to collaborate on it. Ironically enough, we know another creator who was paid to shoot a video [with the same tagline] exclusively for Valentine’s Day,” shares Aalo.

Going beyond the performative

For Naina Narang, a 36-year-old hospitality professional from Mumbai, sharing pictures on social media is a way to showcase her excitement and affection for the relationship. However, when asked about how she feels about #CoupleGoals content that queer couple influencers post online, she admits to feeling triggered with others’ content from time to time. “[But I see it] as a reminder to look within to see what I am missing that the post has brought up for me,” she shares, highlighting her mindful and intentional approach towards social media. However, couple culture—the societal lens of seeing coupledom as the pinnacle of social existence and proof of an individual’s lovability—is not unique to queerness. What does become crucial to queerness is the politics of visibility; for sapphic love to be recognised as valid and allowed legal rights to partnership as well as protection from the double burden of patriarchy and homophobia. It is important for the gaze to shift on sapphic displays of affection as a declaration of love instead of a performance for the lascivious.

Internet forums are now teeming with questions about the future of Chakra and Malik’s brand as a couple. Will they go back and delete old pictures and videos that have already been monetised on the interwebs? Will they return the gifts that people bought for them off of their public registry? How does a couple deal with going from proposing on the Empire State Building to having such a lapse in their trust and intimacy? These are pertinent questions to aim at couple culture, and not to be used as an excuse to target the legitimacy of queer relationships. In a world of Hollywood marriages and ‘supercoupling’, why must queer couples, however messy, shy away from visibility? 

Let’s just say, it is our way of keepin’ up with the Kardashians!

Curated by Gaysi Family | Illustration by Kiri

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