By Karen and Erica

Right after she retired, Karen decided to learn to fly. It was an enormous challenge for someone as bad as she is with heavy equipment. But she fulfilled a long held dream, to be up in the sky alone with the clouds.

However—it was an unwelcome surprise to discover that the cockpit seat was not designed for people of her size. Karen struggled with landings until she realized she couldn’t see what she needed to see over the cowling. Her instructor suggested she sit on something to make her taller, and wear high heels so her feet could reach the pedals. (He is a wonderful guy but obviously had no idea how high heels work.) That seemed unwise, so she ultimately found a big red two piece cushion. She had to lug that cushion around every time she went to the airport. Maybe not the end of the world, but really. Is cockpit seat design one reason there are so few women pilots?

Of course there are many other quotidian examples of design bias. Like when you go to a sporting event and get a “free” tee shirt that is always a man’s extra large. Or when you want to see what’s going on behind a construction fence, but the little window cutouts are way above your head. Or when there is no place to put your purse at the restaurant. And when there are huge lines of women waiting to use toilets when you are at the theater.

Many of these are merely annoying. But we have lately learned that male bias exists in more serious contexts, with more serious impacts. Who knew that medicines were until recently 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. And forget about trying to get a seatbelt that works if you are pregnant.

Design issues like these, and many many more, are exposed in a book we recently enjoyed: Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed For Men, by Caroline Criado Perez. It is a fact-filled and entertaining tome. The author’s view is that the world is designed on the premise that the universe is male and females are atypical. The operative principle: if a design does not work for a woman, why can’t a woman be more like a man?

Among her most edifying observations: homes are designed as places men can relax after a long day at work. But women do not relax at home, because whether they work outside the home or not they work inside the home—doing the unpaid and unsung work without which societies would fail. Home design does not always accommodate that reality. We hadn’t thought about that. There are many other examples that will make you laugh in recognition, then cry.

Similar bias seems to exist for aging populations. How many products are tested by older people? Older women in particular? It is edifying to read the story of the OXO peeler—an iconic item designed by a retired person at the instigation of his arthritic wife. Seems like a good idea if you want to be successful.

The truth is, design imbalance does exact a toll on women. And older people. We hardly notice, because we grow 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 populations are growing. Imagine if the world was designed for everyone. Time for designers to test their products with those who will use them—and to invent products for people other than young men. That would make them rich, and eliminate unseen barriers that weigh people down.

Seems like a win-win.

PS—Since we posted this, The Economist published an excellent article with the same point, noting something that we failed to note—design issues that affect Black people because Black people are not part of relevant studies—and failing to note that older people are often left out of the mix as well.