Easy-to-Miss
Inclusivity in UI & the Workplace
Not even a month into my tenure at Brains on Fire, I asked if the company would pay for me to take a class. It felt bold to ask since people were getting to know me. “Who is this handsome fellow already asking us to invest more in him?” I imagine they asked. But, I credit the leadership for creating a space where I felt comfortable enough to do so and for the nice compliment (whether or not that part happened is neither here nor there).
In the class in question, I would learn about accessibility in UI over a few weeks, collaboratively alongside a small group of designers, none of us sharing the same time zone. I hoped to learn more about how we could best shape our process to meet this crucial demand and — who knows — maybe expand the insights outside of online experiences — despite the course’s focus. And that is what happened.
The experience itself felt inclusive from the get-go. I joined a community Slack channel where not only did I have access to alums and current & future students — like myself — but a space of rituals meant to welcome new members and to invite people to meet one another in simple and fun ways. It was similar in structure to Brains on Fire. Both offered a path that easily leads to a sense of belonging.
Back to discussing the class, our teacher shared lessons, and we practiced through individual work and team collaborations. We learned about best practices and how to consistently put the should-be-obvious-concept at the forefront that not everyone will have perfect eyesight, hearing, motor skills, the exact neurological needs as others, or even access to high-speed internet.
It is then immediately evident how much weight every decision we make as designers carries and how easily somebody can overlook that responsibility. We want to enhance the user’s experience and push boundaries to make their experiences unique. With that goal in mind, we’re always a short distance from the realm where something is not accessible.
There are 1 billion people with disabilities in the world — 1 in 4 Americans — and no one should be in the position to ask for something to work — in its most basic way — how they need it to. As it traditionally stands, the systems do not err on the side of access. Nothing will, on its own, become inclusive. We are accountable and must create the processes to search for and meet those needs.
So, the first big step everyone should take: shift your mindset to inclusion. It’s more challenging than you’d think because so many people believe they already have it. Believing the problem is solved, or even in the process of being solved, makes it incredibly easy to overlook the many ways in which an organization, a team, or a person can affect the practices we need for change to occur. Instead, we must fully embrace the fact there are experiences and day-to-day, unacknowledged, underserved challenges different from our own we’re not thinking about. Even once we know them, we can’t imagine what it’s like. We must think, feel, and act with this fact in mind.
Before integrating into the workflow, we must look for and — more importantly — accept our inherent biases. I am embarrassed to say — especially as I consider myself an empathetic person — how shocked I was the first time I tried to use a website without a mouse or trackpad — a tool I have always used. If I had not been asked to try, I don’t know that it would have crossed my mind to think of how important a need it is. I knew to organize information, label everything, and be clear about interactions. Yet I hadn’t considered how that shaped the world of so many using assistive technology.
A welcomed surprise is how achievable the solutions to so many issues on the web can be. Decisions like adjusting the color palette to ensure proper contrast, including a flexible type system that accounts for the user’s ability to zoom into a page, alternate text for images, skip links, a structure that easily translates to text-only browsers, and information hierarchy that establishes thoughtful content and focus order on a page. None of these goals necessitate aesthetic sacrifice — especially if integrated into the process and are present as we begin our ideation and explorations.
As I continued to learn the right tools and implement a more inherently inclusive mindset, the road to accessibility led me in a direction outside of our team’s UI projects. As I mentioned earlier, BoF has weekly meetings in which the team has the opportunity to bond. They come in different formats, but one relies on team participation, and I have the privilege of leading many of these conversations. The role has me call upon team members to speak and share their thoughts on a prompt. I always perceived this action as voluntary — I would never want to force anyone to speak. But it wasn’t until someone, rather courageously, pointed out to me that, though voluntary in the strict definition, it also placed people in a position to speak, even if they didn’t want to — because they’re in front of their entire team. I took this seriously and searched for a solution.
I returned to insight from class: always have diverse ways for people to receive information. Again, obvious. So, we changed the format. We still meet via video call (a need as we have offices and team members in various parts of the country), but we have added a shared file — most often, a FigJam board — for everyone to engage in and add their contributions in written form. We also have a conversation open to everyone on Slack after the meeting is over, and maybe the most helpful tool so far: the team replies to the prompt posted on Slack with an emoji of their choice to mark if they want to participate during the meeting. This last update is straightforward and effective. At the beginning of a meeting, I have a list of people to call upon, and toward the end, there are usually raised hands ready to share a story.
We are now in search of more paths to accessibility. We invited every team member to share their preferred style to learn and share feedback so we could genuinely destigmatize a need for a single way to communicate about our work. We’re reevaluating the criteria to schedule meetings and consciously labeling what they are, why they’re happening, and who is to play a role. We practice transparency by letting our colleagues know when we need assistance or how what we face at the office or home may affect the day. Doing so is always rewarded with people raising their hands to help. And, of course, we’re going to continue using emojis. 💛
Accessibility, inside and out, expands our thinking and, therefore, influences and betters our making. Our team comprises mindful, kind, open-minded people with strong opinions, impatient to shift and surprise. We are at a perfect stage to question more deeply and search for new ways to support one another. We hope to welcome more team members whose backgrounds and perspectives on the world will open doors and eliminate barriers we have not yet addressed.
To welcome this shift in mindset throughout our team processes is to create a safe and diverse space for sharing that feeds and transforms the solutions we work so hard to develop. May it be a website accessible to users beyond a target demographic, a brand whose language destigmatized what — for some — is an uncomfortable concept, or a social campaign unafraid to call out a broken system. These empathetic and confident choices help us deliver work that surprises the brands with whom we love to work and — on the way — create a deliberate case against exclusion: a space for belonging.
