Solve for One, Extend to Many: Designing for Specific Needs to Create Broader Impact

A few years ago, I realised that the thought processes I had around frustrating experiences, especially when something was clearly a badly designed process, always made me wonder how one could realistically solve them. Growing up with hearing impairment in Nigeria, where there was little to no accommodation for disabilities, I had to constantly figure out how to make things work for myself.

In high school, my teachers dictated notes, which meant my notebooks were full of half-sentences and missing pieces. I had to rely on my social capital as the school breakdancer (ironic, I know, please do not ask me to dance now, all the skills have mysteriously disappeared) to borrow notes from classmates. I spent hours copying them after school and during prep time in boarding school.

Before Spotify lyrics became normal or AZ lyrics became my best friend, I bought lyric books religiously so I could be part of the cool kids singing along to songs that, in hindsight, were wildly inappropriate for teenagers. Or in university, when I met a lifelong friend who changed my life simply by showing me how to download .SRT (subtitle) files and use them on VLC with TV shows I downloaded via Limewire and other questionable platforms. (Shout out to Oppy). (I sincerely hope the statute of limitations on items from Limeware has expired because I watch everything legally now, at great expense, I might add)

The point is that I always tried my best to find ways to live as normally as possible, even though it was exhausting. Sometimes I failed subjects because I had no interest in them, and copying dictation notes took too much energy. My parents had to invest in holiday summer school so I could learn using materials I could actually read. Other times, I simply could not relate to people because I could not hear what was being said or where the next party was happening. The bill always came due whenever I tried to make the extra effort.

A couple of years ago, when I pivoted into tech, someone explained that there is an entire discipline dedicated to solving these things called "Inclusive Design". Reading about it felt like a light bulb going off and truly an amazing moment. This practice articulated the everyday frustrations I had lived with for decades and provided language and tools to actually solve them.

Inclusive design proves that when you design with real human needs in mind, you always uncover additional use cases. It is like a BOGOF. (Buy one, get one free). Except here you get multiple for free. Every edge case solved often helps refine your original solution.

When teams solve problems for individuals navigating hearing loss, low vision, mobility constraints, cognitive load, chronic fatigue, or cultural nuances after truly listening to lived experiences, the solutions become practical and useful rather than theoretical. You design for real people, not imaginary problems.

Here are just a few examples of solutions created for specific needs that now benefit millions.

• Closed captioning began as an accessibility tool for individuals with hearing loss. Now it is used in noisy environments, for AI transcription, and by people scrolling through TikTok or Instagram with sound off. Social media content with captions performs better. This is not a coincidence.

• Text messaging was originally designed for Deaf and hard-of-hearing users who could not communicate by phone. It is now the default communication method globally and has evolved into platforms like WhatsApp, iMessage, and RCS.

• Visual notifications and alerts were created for people who could not hear audio cues. Today, they support anyone who keeps their phone on silent, prefers non-intrusive alerts, or works in loud environments. The most common example is your phone vibrating when a call or alert comes in.

• Simplified and clean interfaces were created for people overwhelmed by cognitive load or listening fatigue. Now these designs support older adults, users with smaller screens, or busy executives whose capacity is stretched thin.

  
  

You probably get the theme by now.

Long-term, my goal is to become a subject matter expert or product lead in this field. I have always felt that my previous experiences living in a world that initially made no space for my disability should not go to waste. Inclusive design feels like the perfect place to channel that.

I have seen products supposedly designed for disabled users, especially those with hearing loss, and it is immediately obvious that no one with hearing loss was involved in creating them.

The biggest example recently was a billboard I saw while driving. I tried to recreate this in the image below:

Disclaimer: I am refining my prompting skills on Nano Banana, so forgive any inconsistencies.

The irony in this ad is self-explanatory. A person driving at 100 km per hour is not going to memorise a phone number. If someone has hearing challenges or suspects hearing loss, why would they call a clinic to book a test? That is how you know no one in that organisation really thought this through. Some may argue that family members could call for them, but that defeats the entire purpose of inclusive design. The goal is to empower people to do things for themselves without compromising their dignity.

Recently, I had to find a new hearing aid provider because my original provider closed in my city. Their nearest branch was an hour away. There was no way I would be driving an hour each way for repeated appointments. No, thank you, sir.

As I looked for alternatives, I could not believe how many audiologists required scheduling or rescheduling by phone. One clinic called me with a long list of intake questions that could easily have been an online form. When I asked for the form to be emailed, they said they could not. To reschedule, I had to call them again. Make it make sense.

Teams often assume that inclusive design slows things down or adds complexity. In reality, it does the opposite. It sharpens your product focus. It opens up new patterns and new flows that you would never discover by designing for broad, vague groups. You can always iterate.

Empathy and the discipline of letting go of preconceived notions during requirements gathering make all the world of difference. It helps you answer the real questions.

• Who are we solving for?

• What is the exact issue they are facing?

• What solution helps them maintain dignity without isolating others?

• How can we scale this once the core problem is solved?

• How do we ensure future iterations continue to solve the main issue?

  
  

We live in a world with rapidly evolving needs and abilities. Even within the same disability, two people can have different experiences. Inclusive design acknowledges this nuance without overengineering the solution.

Designing for specific needs gives solution providers a competitive advantage. It builds loyalty with users you never expected. One of the reasons I would not switch my mobile to Apple yet is because of how strongly Android has built features for people with hearing loss, like Live Transcribe and Live Captions. These are incredibly meaningful tools that have improved my quality of life.

Inclusive design positions you as a kinder, smarter, more solution-oriented provider. And it all starts with designing for one.