Designing For Us? Talk To Us.

By Karen and Erica

We remember how astonished we were when we realized everything is designed for men. Now we’re astonished that nothing is designed for older people.

After she retired, Karen decided to learn to fly. She had long dreamed of being able to navigate in the clouds. She knew there were very few female pilots, so it should have occurred to her that a cockpit would not be built for someone her size. But it didn’t. Instead, she struggled with landings. Then she realized—she couldn’t see over the cowling. She ultimately found a big red cushion with a bottom and a back. She had to lug that cushion around every time she went to the airport. Really? Is cockpit seat design one reason there are so few women pilots?

Cockpit design is probably not a critical issue for most people. But design bias exists in many contexts, with more serious impacts. Who knew that most medicines are still tested only on male rats? (Female rats have pesky hormones.) That leads to drug dosing that can be dangerous for women. Same with seat belts. Male dummies are used to crash-test belts in driver’s seats even though women have been known to drive on occasion. Women’s bodies are rather different from men’s, especially when they are pregnant.

You can read about design issues like these, and many many more, in Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed For Men, by Caroline Criado Perez. The author suggests that designers approach their work as if the universe is male, and females are atypical. Even our homes are apparently designed as places where men can relax after a long day at work. Since women, whether they work outside the home or not, spend a lot of time working inside the home, that seems counter-intuitive. Uless women and their domestic work are invisible.

Similar bias seems to exist for aging populations. How often do you see a product expressly designed for us that works perfeectly and looks elegant? How many products are tested by older people? Older women in particular? One product was—the OXO peeler—an iconic item designed by a retired man at the instigation of his arthritic wife. That worked out well for both of them—and the rest of us.

We don’t suggest that being a certain age is the defining characteristic for most of us. We are still all different, and we still want different things. Aging does not turn us into identical blobs.

“What we learned by actually talking to people is that most of what they want is same as what we want,” he says, listing interesting and fun people to spend time with, ways to nurture love and intimacy and ways to contribute and make a difference as examples.

Perhaps this ought not to be surprising – the elderly are human beings after all, just older ones. But design thinking and wider societal attitudes towards older people are often reductive, Zapolski explains.

“For any other cohort, we don’t imagine their needs are the same,” he says. He gives the example of a 26-year-old young professional living in Brooklyn and a 35-year-old mum living in a rural US town. Both are technically young people, but we wouldn’t for one minute believe their wants and needs match up to the same extent we consider seniors’ do. “For older people, it seems like everyone from 65 to 95 has the same needs.”

But we do need designers to understand how we use what we have. As we age, many of us we will one day need different things than younger people. Eyewear with higher power. Mobility assistance. Simpler devices. (Actually we all need simpler devices. Why are there different remotes for the same TV?) Taxis that do not require a ladder for entry.

Accommodating the physical changes associated with aging need not be unattractive, though. Like grab bars. Whatever we need should be beautifully designed. We’re not second class people. Products for us should not be second class either.

Those of us who are still active and healthy at advanced ages–I qualify–discover that we aren’t quite as capable as our younger selves. That doesn’t mean that we aren’t healthy and workable–I still have a very active job and travel on business around the world, but I have to admit that I’m getting slower and weaker, with diminished eyesight, hearing, taste, touch, and, well, almost everything physical. The number of active, healthy oldsters is large–and increasing. We are not a niche market. And businesses should take note: We are good customers often with more free time and discretionary income than younger people.

Despite our increasing numbers the world seems to be designed against the elderly. Everyday household goods require knives and pliers to open. Containers with screw tops require more strength than my wife or I can muster. (We solve this by using a plumber’s wrench to turn the caps.) Companies insist on printing critical instructions in tiny fonts with very low contrast. Labels cannot be read without flashlights and magnifying lenses. And when companies do design things specifically for the elderly, they tend to be ugly devices that shout out to the world “I’m old and can’t function!” We can do better.

The truth is, design imbalance does exact a toll on women. And older people. We hardly notice, because we grew up in a world designed for men. Big men, and young men, at that. But the world’s population is split more or less evenly between women and men, and the older population is growing rapidly. Time for designers to see where the market is going.

Imagine if the world were designed for everyone, and designers tested their products with the input of those who will use them. That would make designers rich, and eliminate unseen barriers that weigh down women and older people.

We can do this. We just have to think.

We volunteer.