Dear New Designers, It’s Not You, It’s Them

Photo by Katrina Wright

If you’re reading this, I’m probably older than you. Now, I’m not about to sit up here and say that older folks are inherently wiser because we’ve lived longer (though it does help), but what most of us are, friends, is tired. Our filters have eroded from overuse, and we have zero f**ks left to give. My default is raw honesty these days because it’s all I have the energy for, and right now, I need to have a chat with you all once again about this industry we call design.

In other words, your UX Auntie is calling you in.

What I am about to say is going to rub some people the wrong way, but my intent is only to help the rest of you press reset on how you think about your work. Hopefully, this post will serve as a much-needed reminder you can return to whenever you need it.

I’ve been seeing a lot of design-focused discussions across social platforms that are painfully disconnected from what most of us working in design experience—discussions framed with no sense of urgency with regard to how our work is rapidly changing. It’s no wonder since many of these exchanges are initiated by those who haven’t done hands-on work in many years. They’ve become professional “experts” who spend their days pontificating from the comfort of their Twitter (I refuse to call it X) and LinkedIn accounts, far removed from the trenches where the actual design work is happening.

These self-anointed gurus, consultants, and “coaches” are full-time knowledge peddlers. They’ve built personal brands based on their expertise by promoting their courses, books, and speaking engagements to aspiring designers who eagerly want to follow any recipe for success. While these folks may be motivated by a genuine desire to help, they are trapped by having committed their entire bottom line to giving advice, forcing them to continually crank out content regardless of whether that advice is grounded in the true challenges of the work or in any way useful to those who desperately need it. They’ve placed themselves on a never-ending hamster wheel of content creation, fueled by the fear of becoming irrelevant in an industry that is changing before us at breakneck speed.

To meet their own marketing demands, they’re all terminally online, trying to catch your eye with some trite quip about the industry in the hopes of getting more engagement while promoting their businesses at the same time. Their feeds are a parade of inspirational quotes, hot takes on the latest design trends, and self-congratulatory posts about their latest speaking gig or podcast appearance. It’s a constant barrage of noise, drowning out the voices of those actually doing the daily work and overcoming real-life obstacles. Voices that, if we just engaged and listened to more, could significantly make us better at what we do.

Within all this digital posturing, they’re all fighting amongst themselves about whose assessment of the state of the industry is right and what (or who) is responsible for its decline. It’s like watching a group of medieval scholars argue about the number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin while the rest of us are just trying to figure out how to survive in an increasingly precarious job market.

If you feel called out right now, you should. The level of discussion going on right now is unserious and does nothing to enhance our professional standing. Quite the opposite. It trivializes the complex realities of our field, reducing it to soundbites and oversimplified maxims. It distracts from the serious issues facing designers today: the ethical implications of our work, promoting inclusivity despite shrinking budgets and timelines, the impact of AI on our profession, and the struggle for fair compensation and recognition. While these so-called thought leaders battle for likes and retweets, the rest of us are left to navigate the hostile waters of an industry in flux, with little guidance beyond the platitudes and empty promises of some new framework, book, or course that will magically free us all.

The unfortunate result is that if you are new to the field and trying to assess the viability of a design career through the lens of these incessantly negative, hyperbolic, or self-aggrandizing posts, you likely have a pretty dim view of what’s possible and are left wholly uninspired. The constant barrage of ‘hot takes’ and ‘industry disruptions’ paints a picture of a field in perpetual crisis, teetering on the brink of irrelevance or, paradoxically, poised to solve all of humanity’s problems with the next big design tool innovation.

For newcomers, this cacophony of voices can be overwhelming and disheartening. If that’s you, then I know you’re being bombarded with contradictory advice like: ‘specialize or die,’ ‘be a generalist or become obsolete,’ ‘master the latest tool,’ and ‘tools don’t matter, only process does.’ It’s enough to make anyone question their career choice before they’ve even started. The social media echo chamber amplifies the loudest, most extreme, and most obnoxious voices, while simultaneously drowning out the nuanced, thoughtful perspectives that could, if given the right exposure, guide and inspire the next generation of designers.

The truth is this: much of the great work in tech design is rarely discussed on LinkedIn or anywhere else. When it is, it doesn’t get the same engagement and thus gets buried. The algorithms that govern our social media feeds don’t prioritize substance over style or depth over catchiness. The quiet, diligent work that forms the backbone of our industry doesn’t translate well into clever tweets or eye-catching infographics. It’s not sexy; it doesn’t go viral, but it is the bedrock upon which this work is built and the key to how it gets better.

There is an entire world of mature, principled design happening, and the designers responsible for it couldn’t care less about social media popularity. These are the unsung heroes of our field, toiling away, often in obscurity, solving complex problems and pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. They’re not interested in conferences that fetishize tools or workshops that promise to teach you ‘everything you need to know about UX in just three days!’ They understand that true mastery comes from years of practice, failure, and continuous learning — not from a certificate or a viral LinkedIn post.

These designers are just working away while maturing their domains—day after day—in companies and public sector projects around the globe. They’re improving healthcare systems, making government services more accessible, enhancing educational platforms, and tackling the existential threat of climate change through thoughtful, user-centered design. Their work may not make the popular conference circuit, but it’s making a difference in people’s lives. They find satisfaction not in likes and shares but in the knowledge that their work is contributing to something larger than themselves.

So, to the newcomers feeling lost in all the noise, please know that there’s a vast, rich world of design beyond the circus. It’s a world where creativity meets rigor, empathy drives innovation, and the impact of your work is measured not in followers but in lives improved. This is the reality of design—it’s challenging, rewarding, and infinitely more complex and inspiring than any bloviating on social media could possibly capture.

I need you to become more discerning consumers when it comes to where you find inspiration. Stop interacting with the ridiculous engagement farming posts. And diversify your sources of truth about this industry. But most of all, remember that your design career belongs to you.

You and only you get to decide the path your career should follow, what advice is worth taking, and what kind of professional you will ultimately become.