Jake Phillips
PatternFly
Published in
6 min readJun 30, 2020

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P.R.I.D.E. — Perfect Resources in Diversifying (User) Experience

A close-up of the Pride flag
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Pride month may be nearly over, but inclusivity matters all year long

PatternFly’s branded divider, our logo centered between two lighter lines.

Hello friends, and happy Pride month. To wrap up a month of support, love, and power, I wanted to share my journey from closeted kid to proudly open, open source UX Writer. Along the way, we’ll take a look at some awesome resources for making every area of your User Experience friendly to the LGBT+ community.

Much like good UX, my identity has gone through a series of iterations.

My story starts all the way back in middle school, when I began to realize I liked boys in the same way I liked girls. As I grew up, I noticed that the people around me weren’t like me. Boys liked girls and girls liked boys. Even in my high school, when women were coming out with a variety of queer identities, no guys came out of the closet.

A photo collage of the author as a child.
A photo of the article author with two female friends in high school.
Look at that glow up.

And worse, my community wasn’t just lacking gay men, it was afraid of them. It hated them. The boys at my school constantly challenged each other’s sexualities and identities while poking fun at gay men. You know the phrases: that’s so gay, no homo, queer. Faggot. Even my friends would make gay jokes if I acted too excited, too flamboyant, about something I felt passionately about. By this time, I had solidified my identity as bisexual — but in a culture that so deeply lacked empathy and misunderstood LGBT+ people, I didn’t feel safe coming out or being myself.

UX research read: Embracing My Identity in Tech

Everything changed when I went to college. In a liberal, academic setting, I felt safe to take that first step. The first guy I befriended in college was a gay man; everyone spoke openly about allyship; and there were support systems, people in power, saying that my identity mattered and would be welcome on campus. In other words, I finally had a community.

A photo of the author posing with friends and mascot Sam the Minuteman at UMass Amherst summer orientation.
If the piercing gaze of a dead Minuteman doesn’t scream community, I don’t know what does.

Having a community is important.

Sometimes, I catch myself wondering where I’d be without it. My queer identity has since shaped so much of my life — the friends I’ve made, the poetry I read and produce, the work I do — and I wonder, too, where I might be now if I had found that community earlier.

UX research read: Identity, ethnography & queer communities

Inclusivity and culture read: Reflections on building inclusive team culture

So we’re done here, right? We’ve reached the climax of our story — our main character has come out, found acceptance — so it’s tempting to think the show’s over.

I always thought coming out would be the end of my story, in a way. Sure, there would be struggles. Even as an optimist, I know that I’ll meet people who won’t be okay with my identity. But, of course, this is a story that hasn’t reached its finale yet.

I was still coming out, and I realize now that I’ll always be coming out to new people. To friends, to family, then extended family and the family of my friends, then coworkers, and now: to the internet.

And, my own coming out aside, there was still a lot for me to learn. I had found this community, but how could I participate in a community I knew nothing about? The Pride community has so much history, and I had a lot of ground to cover from Stonewall to Ru Paul and everything in between.

UX and empathy read: What drag taught me about being a UX designer

So I began to read. I began to learn. I began to participate.

As a friend said, I was learning how to become “more gay every day.” It was always my choice to do what I wanted with this information, to decide how to participate and in what ways to uphold or break from queer traditions. No matter how I chose to present my queer identity, the important thing was that I was informed.

A photo of the author and a friend wearing rainbow Kim Petras tee shirts and holding up a “Woo Ah!” glowstick.
The LGBT+ community makes the best music. Seriously, why aren’t you already stanning Kim Petras?

As UX folks, this learning process is critical.

We have to learn about our users and include them actively in our research. We need diverse subjects in our studies — and not just white queer folks, please — and we have to make sure our products and their copy resonate with these audiences. Researching and learning about (and especially from) your users won’t just improve your products. It’ll broaden and deepen the connection between you and your users. It’ll help you connect with a wider array of people and meaningfully engage with their stories. Empathy makes great UX. And unsurprisingly? It’s fun, too.

UX research: What Queer Eye taught me about UX research

UX design read: You can’t just draw purple people and call it diversity

UX and inclusivity read: 10 steps for a better queer user experience

My learning isn’t over, and neither is yours

As an informed member of this community, I understand there is still a lot of work to be done. Even as a bisexual person facing erasure, I realize I’m privileged within the LGBT+ community. In spite of this month — in spite of celebrities speaking out and all the hashtags and emojis and rainbow company logos — trans members of our community, many who are women of color, are being attacked and murdered. According to GLAAD, 55% of all reported LGBT+ homicide victims were transgender women, and 50% were transgender women of color. Furthermore, 78% transgender/gender non-conforming students in grades K-12 experienced harassment, while 35% experienced physical assault and 12% experienced sexual violence.

Learning about trans individuals for the sake of our UX products is simply not enough. In a world that actively discriminates against these individuals, the least we can do is make our products trans-friendly.

Better, more inclusive UX

UX writers should craft their copy to include all genders (for example, it’s always best practice to refer to unknown people as “they”). We should also avoid phrases that might exclude trans or nonbinary users and contribute to gender polarization (such as “attention, ladies and gentlemen”). UX designers should be equally aware and create gender-inclusive icons and graphics that all users can identify with.

Of course, there are many more ways UX folks can be active in inclusion, and I am not the first (and hopefully not the last) person to talk about this:

UX writing and design read: How to design for every gender

UX design read: Designing forms for gender diversity and inclusion

UX design read: The complex UX design behind gender selection forms

UX design read: Gender-inclusive product design

UX design read: Where no gender fits: How to be more inclusive through ungendered design

The “change my mind” meme edited to read “Our copy isn’t good enough for trans and non-binary people: change my mind.”
Our industry needs to step up its game.

My story is just one of many.

I encourage you to learn and explore. Read those links, and read beyond them. Listen to — and learn from — LGBT+ stories like and different from mine. Use what you learn from the community to make your products — your coding, your design, your writing — inclusive for this community. And, most importantly, keep pursuing equity for these communities. Even after Pride month ends.

PatternFly’s branded divider, our logo centered between two lighter lines.

Have a UX story of your own? Send your ideas our way. More writers and fresh perspectives can only make PatternFly’s Medium publication stronger.

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Jake Phillips
PatternFly

Poet // UX writer // Chicken finger connoisseur and croissant savant // he/him