As a user experience designer, I see problems everywhere and it makes me angry

Here’s why tech needs more diversity.

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

In my newsletter, I shared that I was on Week 4 of The Artist’s Way, where I’ll be depriving myself of reading for a week. This freed up some mental space for me to dig deeper about a moment that made me angry today. If you’re a fellow user experience designer, you may be familiar with this unpacking of poor experiences. Surprisingly though, my anger led me to a path beyond the Ten Heuristics and into how current systems fail us.

This morning, my mom needed to renew her military ID, which expires at the end of the week. After spending some time on the US DOD ID Card Office Online website, I left feeling angry and frustrated. Like, in a super bad mood the rest of the morning.

We got it all figured out, but for starters:

• The location search on the website was a pain to use. There were links within links, redundant locations (like 2 or 3 listings of the same general location with slightly different location names), and the details of what to expect from each location varied. Some gave a lot of details on what documentation to bring for the renewal, whether you needed proof of vaccination or not, whether you could enter the base with an expired card…and some had no additional info. It would have been helpful to see standardized info across locations.
• This is a screenshot on my laptop. Imagine trying to parse through this on a mobile device (my mom doesn’t have a laptop):

• The 4 locations that were within 25 miles away from us either don’t process renewals for dependents, don’t have appointments for the rest of the month, or don’t allow walk-ins. Why not show a legend or surface this information upfront so I don’t waste my time clicking into them?
• The 5th location was 50 miles away but seemed like the best bet. They are also only open for walk-ins from 7:30 am-10 am, which is slightly inconvenient. Also, why didn’t they accept appointments?
• None of the locations I looked at had appointment availability in February or March. What’s the point of an online system if you can’t make appointments? Why not just tell me what the earliest available appointment is so I at least know this system is working?

That was my quick audit of this horrible experience. And yes, it can be fixed. But I was still angry. I investigated my anger a level deeper and found myself starting to poke at the system:

• That time I spent navigating that site is time I’ll never get back. I probably spent an hour including printing out this info for my mom, organizing it into the top 4 locations and phone numbers in case she wanted to try calling for an appointment instead.
• My dad had served in the US Coast Guard for 20 years and retired, which is how my mom has her military ID, as a dependent. Why don’t we treat our veterans better? How many others have had to navigate this frustrating website only to end up with a list of phone numbers to call the following Monday morning to try and make an appointment?
• Apparently my mom needs to be 75 years old to get an ID card that won’t ever expire — she’s a year shy of that. Why can’t she be eligible now?

And I took it another layer deeper. So, here’s the source of my anger, which took me a little bit more time to unpack because it’s been normal to me for so long:

• As a first-generation Filipino-American, I grew up always finding ways to make things easier for my parents to understand the system and make sure they were not failed by it. This time was no different. I went through the trouble of looking this info up on my laptop, printing pages out multiple times so the font was big enough that my mom could read it, and writing the phone numbers and locations at the top in big Sharpie for even more improved readability.

I used to just accept my role of bridging these gaps because I refused to believe the system wasn’t for people like my parents. I was the one talking to doctors, parsing through a binder to understand my mom’s diagnosis when she had breast cancer; editing my dad’s letters to the editor when he wanted to send his opinions to the local paper; reading complicated bills, insurance, tax documents and more. I did extra work to make the system accessible. That’s because I believed the system was infallible. I believe any immigrant feels that way. After all, they took numerous risks to make a life here.

When you grow up with this mindset, you appreciate all of it. You do the hard work and go the extra mile to convey that “everything’s okay.” You don’t want to rock the boat or draw attention to how you haven’t been able to assimilate for fear that you will never belong. After all, it’s easier to stay invisible and conform rather than make a scene and call out that the system can fail, and doesn’t work for everyone. Like older people for example, or non-native English speakers, or those with poor eyesight.

I’m a designer because I want to make sure products and services are inclusive, accessible, and don’t make people feel like crap after they use it. I mentor other designers because I believe every company, product, and service needs to have advocates who are empathetic and open-minded. I want to support other women of color because I believe these intersections of identity leave us vulnerable, from traditions to experiences that I felt were “normal” but are actually times I’ve had to work harder to bridge the gap. To pretend that the system was working rather than draw attention to how it fails me and others like me.

Ultimately, I faced my anger today to reinforce both my lived experiences and the motivation for my journey. Not a bad way to start the morning, adding fuel to the fire of self-expression.

And today is only Day 1 of reading deprivation.

Have you ever had to pretend the system was serving you, when in fact it was failing you? I’d love to hear your story.

Also, I hope you have a great week. May you find a source of anger, and find the energy that fuels you, too.

Lia Fetterhoff is a product design leader, writer, and creator of Swishie, providing content and community for women of color to thrive doing the work they love. Lia’s passion is exploring the intersection of design and life, amplifying the journeys of women of color, and sharing insights as a mom and woman of color in tech. She lives with her husband and two kids in Roseville, CA.