Design for inclusivity, not universality
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Why UX designers should adopt the inclusive design philosophy over the universal design philosophy.
What is a disability?
This might at first sound like a silly question.
However, in my experience of advocating the importance of accessibility to others, there’s usually some inevitable point in the conversation where they respond back to me: “But accessible design would just be targeting a small niche of users, wouldn’t it?”
No, not at all.
The word “disability” is usually thought of in its most permanent forms: deafness, blindness, paralysis, etc.
However, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) defines a person with disability as “a person who has a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activity.”
If we take a purely semantic approach, an “impairment” can either be permanent or temporary. And indeed, this sentiment is reflected in UX design.
As previously stated, impairments can be thought of in their most permanent forms of deafness, blindness, paralysis, etc.
But it can also be temporary, in the case of a broken arm or leg.
Impairments can even be situational. Say you’re on a noisy, crowded train and want to stream your favorite show on your phone. You certainly could blast the show on full volume, but you probably wouldn’t be able to hear it very well. And, even worse, you’d have to suffer the side eye glares of your train neighbors as they judge your taste in entertainment media. (They don’t know you’ve already watched this specific season 7 times already.)
Regardless, there are different types and different severities of impairments. Designing for disability does not mean designing only for the subset of users with permanent disabilities — it means designing for everyone.
(None of this is meant to compare the severity and seriousness of limb differences to, say, carrying a baby. This section only serves to illustrate that accessibility design benefits multiple people in multiple scenarios.)
Universal design
Universal design may be the most straightforward manifestation of this idea that designing for disability means designing for everyone.
As defined by its creator, Ronald Mace, “Universal design is design that’s usable by all people, to the greatest extent possible, without the need for adaptation or specialized design.”
The term “universal design” finds its origins in architecture in mid-to-late-20th-century concerted efforts to create accessibility-focused building codes. In UX, universal design attempts to design one product to accommodate the greatest number of users possible.
For example, while closed captions were designed primarily for deaf or hard of hearing users, it has also proven helpful for users learning a second language. Users with autism who experience auditory sensitivity may prefer to mute videos and turn on closed captions instead. Closed captioning may also benefit users with ADHD by helping them retain more information in longer-form video content.
Inclusive design
Toronto’s OCAD University defines inclusive design as “design that considers the full range of human diversity with respect to ability, language, culture, gender, age and other forms of human difference.”
In UX, inclusive design aims to create a product for a specific niche of users, with a stretch goal of expanding the use cases to a more general population. It’s like designing for the edge cases first and slowly working your way in towards the everyman user later on (if possible).
My favorite example of inclusive design is the Xbox Adaptive Controller.
Beginning as a hackathon project for the Microsoft 2015 Ability Summit, a group of Microsoft employees were intrigued by the idea of developing console controllers for injured veterans. By using the Kinect’s motion-sensing capabilities to create a gaming device which tracked user movement and translated them into inputs similar to that of a Xbox wireless controller, the hackathon team was able to claim the grand prize of that year. This winning hackathon project eventually snowballed into an official Microsoft project in the form of the Xbox Adaptive Controller.
With the intent of aiding players with limb differences to have more agency in their gaming, the product is essentially a basic central console with 19 jacks for add-on accessories that target different specific disability pain points. Imagine a laptop with 19 USB ports. It’s like that. The laptop/Xbox Adaptive Controller is the main interface, and the 19 USB ports are there for whatever other needs you have.
As Microsoft succinctly puts it: “Solve for one, extend to many.”
The Xbox Adaptive Controller central console is for the one. The add-on accessories are for the many.
Inclusive design vs. Universal design
In metaphorical terms, I tend to picture inclusive design as a wheelchair ramp and universal design as an elevator.
For those who are wheelchair-bound, using crutches, or perhaps carrying a really heavy box that blocks their vision, wheelchair ramps and elevators are two methods to go up a floor level.
The difference is that wheelchair ramps are typically posed as an alternative to using the stairs — there are two solutions to getting to the same destination.
In an elevator, users who would otherwise be using a wheelchair ramp occupy the same space as users who would not be using a wheelchair ramp.
Inclusive design creates alternative paths. Universal design corrals users into the same solution.
Which is better?
Even in my closed captioning example for universal design, it’s pretty clear that the concept of it started as inclusive design for users who were deaf or hard of hearing. It’s just that it serendipitously happened to have multiple use cases.
All cases of universal design start off as inclusive design.
Further, you cannot start off by trying to create “universal design” for two reasons:
- When you try to design for everyone at the get go, you will design for no one. Unless you are literally Google, there is no successful, non-scam business whose target audience is “everyone.” Even if you weren’t designing for users with disabilities, businesses never list “everyone” as their target audience because products don’t get delivered when the scope is that huge. Otherwise, why would we have a primary and secondary user persona instead of a singular persona that just says “everybody”?
- Disabilities are not universal. A user with epilepsy will likely have different usability concerns than a user with limb differences. Two people with the same disability may not even experience it the same way depending on multiple factors such as the surrounding environment, socioeconomic status, and access to resources. For example, two people who are hard of hearing may have different auditory experiences if one has a cochlear implant and the other does not.
It raises the question: is universal design even truly universal?
In spite of the many users who benefit from closed captioning, closed captioning isn’t going to do much for users who are blind. Voice user interfaces like Alexa and Siri are spectacular for users who are blind, but it’s not usable for users who are non-verbal.
It’s incredibly difficult to design and accommodate for every disability or situation a user may find themself in. Spare yourself the headache and figure out your target users, interview them, research their needs, and design for them specifically. If your inclusive design ends up incorporating more types of users into its usability cases, that’s great! And if it doesn’t, then you’ve at least made a difference for one group of users, and that’s great too!
The concept of “universality” in UX design is far too nebulous and potentially not even possible. Start from inclusivity first, and branch out from there.
Thank you for reading my article. As a disability ally, I am in a constant state of learning — and that means I might make some mistakes every now or then. So please feel free to leave a comment (or even correct me!) if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.
All images displayed in the article are designed by me.
