How Spotify Invaded My Queer Christmas Privacy
By: James Finn
Tags: Christmas, LGBTQ, Privacy, Social Media, Creative Non Fiction

As an atheist and former devout evangelical Christian who adores Christmas, I spent a lot of time with Spotify over the last few days. As much as I loved the Christmas warmth of the music that filled my home, I was shocked to learn how much Spotify knows about me.

How on EARTH did they find out I’m gay, think about HIV issues a lot, live in Michigan, and am getting on in years? I don’t know, but based on Spotify’s personalized ads, they have me nailed down tight. I felt so creeped out, I’m considering deleting the app from all my devices and never using it again.

But if I do that, will I have meaningfully reclaimed my privacy? Not at all! Some say real privacy in the age of Big Tech is gone forever. I wish we could collectively do something about that.

Here’s what happened

I paid for a Spotify account for years, finding it invaluable in my obsession with French pop music. I’m a serious nerd, what can I say? Part of my passion for learning French included a passion for immersing myself in French music and culture, and Spotify helped make that happen.

When I signed up, I did what I do when any app asks me for demographic information. I lied my ass off.

But three or four years ago, my intense focus ebbed, and when the credit card I’d used to sign up for Spotify expired, I didn’t bother to renew my subscription. I could still listen to my playlists from my laptop, but as I listened to less French music, I saw less need to pay for Spotify.

As for discovering new music, YouTube sufficed when I was in the mood.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve

Besides French pop music, I have a passion for choral music, the kind sung in cavernous churches accompanied by glorious organ music. One of my favorite radio broadcasts/podcasts is NPR’s With Heart and Voice, which features sacred choral and organ music from around the world.

Tuning into the BBC’s Christmas Eve broadcast of the The Choir of King’s College, Cambridge has been a holiday tradition of mine for over twenty years.

This Christmas Eve was no different. The broadcast happens quite early in the day on the American side of the Atlantic, so I listened fortified with eggnog and brandy as I lit candles and puttered about adjusting festive decorations. I kept in close touch with friends via tech, but my home was empty, the only Christmas I’ve ever spent entirely alone.

An evidently older man, with a lilt in his voice that read gay to me, asked if I worry about HIV.

I worked hard not to let that get to me. Covid exigencies be damned, I was going to have a merry Christmas!

And that meant a house full of music. I opened Spotify, set a glorious Christmas choral music playlist going, prepared a shrimp and salmon feast, uncorked a flinty bottle of white wine that cost a lot more than I usually allow myself, and settled in with a good book.

(I’m re-reading The Lord of the Rings, making sure I keep up with Dr. Thomas J. West III and his fascinating commentary. If anybody wants to join in, still plenty of time to catch up.)

When Libera’s interpretation of Carol of the Bells started to play, I was chatting with Artemis Shishir in India via WhatsApp. He asked me about it, so I sent him a YouTube link to the version I’ve used to headline this story. We ended up also watching this particularly inspired version by Pentatonix, so I shut off Spotify for a while.

Discovering how much Spotify knows about me

When we ended our chat, I absentmindedly flicked Spotify back on as I tidied up in the kitchen. Since I no longer have a paid account, a short series of ads started to play.

One of my autism superpowers is an ability to completely shut things out I don’t want to hear, so while I knew Spotify played ads sometimes, I’d never actually listened to one, had no idea what they might advertise.

But with my hands in hot sudsy water and no stories playing in my mind demanding to be written down, I focused on the first ad. The significance didn’t hit me for a moment, but as implications became clear, my jaw dropped.

An evidently older man, with a lilt in his voice that read gay to me, asked if I worry about HIV. Did I know that older men are particularly susceptible? He asked me to consider drugs for PrEP (Pre-exposure prophylaxis) if I was sexually active and worried about staying HIV negative.

To be clear, that’s a wonderful message. PrEP is a critical component of the struggle to end the HIV pandemic, and education campaigns are crucial. But here’s the catch.

That Spotify ad referred me for further information to a county health center less than 30 miles from my isolated rural home. Spotify knows almost exactly where I live! Hands still immersed in soapy water, a shiver ran up and down my body, electrifying the hair on my arms.

That sent my brain to churning, and for the rest of the evening, I focused on the ads that punctuated my Christmas music

I got two more ads about HIV

I got an ad for a gay dating service

I got an ad for a vacation package for seniors

I got an ad for nutrition for “active older men”

I got several ads specific to the region of the state where I live

I always lie about demographics

I was shocked, because I have never given Spotify any personal information. When I signed up, I did what I do when any app asks me for demographic information. I lied my ass off. I lied about where I live, how old I am, and even what my gender is.

I’m so privacy conscious that if an app insists on verifying a real email address or (God forbid) my phone number, I almost always shrug my shoulders and stop installing the app.

And get this.

I didn’t sign up for Spotify with either of my Google accounts, not the personal one I use for banking, shopping, and emailing family, close friends, and business associates; not the JamesFinnWrites account I advertise professionally on social media.

Spotify could not possibly have identified my sexual orientation or age bracket based only on my music preferences. The contemporary French pop I listen to on their service would have led them to very different conclusions. Somehow, they’ve linked my activity on the Internet and other social media to my Spotify account, learning things about me and my personal life that have literally nothing to with how or why I use their service.

To say I’m outraged is to significantly understate my anger. I feel spied on, taken advantage of, and lied to. On a personal level, all my previous good will toward Spotify has evaporated.

Should I stop using Spotify?

I’d like to. But what are my alternatives? Artemis and I watched YouTube videos together, but YouTube has me just as figured out as Spotify does. I use YouTube with my JamesFinnWrites account, so I’m not shocked they know I’m into LGBTQ and HIV activism. They get it from my search history, and I begrudgingly accept it.

Facebook is no better.

When I started publishing stories with top LGBTQ pages, Facebook forced me to become a verified user, which meant I had to send them a copy of both sides of my drivers license. They know my exact age and even my street address. They’ve got me pegged, and I don’t see any way around it.

Social media have destroyed privacy

If I can’t enjoy choral music on Christmas Eve without having a major Internet company send me ads targeted to my exact demographic and geographic location, does meaningful privacy exist anymore?

Some would say that targeted HIV advertising is fantastic, and I should be glad to sacrifice a little privacy for that, and I almost agree. Except almost all of the PrEP ads I’ve seen on social media for the last 18 months are from ambulance-chasing law firms spreading dangerous falsehoods about PrEP.

Early last December, GLAAD and over 50 other HIV/AIDS and public health organizations released a public letter calling on Facebook to remove a flood of dangerous ads from the Instagram and Facebook.

Facebook said they would stop publishing the ads, and for a few weeks, they kept their word. But as I reported last February, they soon opened the floodgates again.

Every gay man I know on Facebook and Instagram gets these ads, which claim falsely that PrEP causes severe health problems. But Facebook refuses to stop leveraging its demographic database to spread false information that slows progress in the fight against HIV.

Invasion of privacy has toxic consequences

If Facebook didn’t invade user privacy, they wouldn’t be able to micro-target gay men with false, dangerous ads, and that’s just one example. So while I’m not angry with Spotify over the content of their fairly responsible ad, I’m angry they have enough information to target me.

No Big Tech company has any justifiable business reason to know I’m an older gay man who sometimes worries about HIV. Not all Big Tech corporations are as baldly evil as Facebook, of course, but no corporation should be entrusted with intimate, private details about people’s lives — especially when people have gone to lengths to protect their privacy.

Just because Spotify chose to send me a generally helpful targeted ad this time doesn’t mean they won’t send me a false, dangerous ad next time. They shouldn’t be empowered to do either.

I don’t know how we’ve gotten ourselves into this predicament, but we need to figure out how to get ourselves out. Privacy matters, and Big Tech is stealing it from us whether we want them to or not.