I didn’t get into design to push pixels or optimize sign-up flows.
I got into design because I wanted to shape systems that make sense—for people and the planet.
But the deeper I went into the so-called world of UX, the more I realized:
We’re not designing systems. We’re decorating them.
Let me be blunt. A lot of what gets praised as “good UX” feels empty.
Nice interface, smooth transitions, catchy microcopy—and absolutely no care for what lies beneath.
We claim to put users first, but somehow we’re fine designing for extractive business models, dark patterns, addictive loops, and half-baked “green” solutions that are more about optics than impact. I can't tell you how often I talk to designers saying that "research is kind of waste of time - we already know what the user wants" and then proceed saying "users have no idea what they want". There are even memes about this.
It’s like giving a landfill a minimalist makeover and calling it sustainable.
And then there’s the content. Scroll LinkedIn for five minutes and it’s all the same:
Cliché-ridden posts about how a soft drop shadow changed someone’s life or how the placement of a twig in a photo transformed the “vibe” of the experience.
Vibe...
God, I hate that word.
It’s like we’ve replaced substance with aesthetic moodboards.
Design isn’t about “vibes.” It’s about consequences. Impact. Intentionality.
But the algorithm doesn’t reward complexity. It rewards fluff you can digest in 15 seconds.
Design Isn’t Enough. And Honestly? It Never Was.
The problem isn’t just bad ethics. It’s a lack of depth.
Most design processes stop at the surface.
We empathize with the user but ignore the developer who has to build our beautiful idea with duct tape and deadlines.
We love talking about “systems thinking,” but we can’t read the logic of the systems we claim to want to change.
We want to change the world through design, but don’t want to get our hands dirty learning how the world actually works.
I’ve seen it firsthand: design and dev teams treating each other like enemies on a sinking ship.
Designers frustrated that their vision gets “butchered in dev.”
Developers annoyed that designers drop Figma files without a clue about feasibility or performance.
And somewhere between those silos, the original intention dies.
I got tired of that. And I have just started.
So I decided to stop being a spectator.
And I started learning how to build.
What Ethnology Taught Me That UX Forgot
Before design, I studied ethnology.
One of the first things you learn is this: if you want to understand a culture, live with it. Gerald W. Creed did it. He lived in a Bulgarian village called Zamfirovo between 1987 and 1997. Now many argue this was excessive, but I am not going tell you to follow his exact steps.
Not just observe it. Live it. Share their rhythms. Cook their food. Make their problems your own.
That’s when empathy becomes real—not a sticky note on a workshop wall, but something that changes you.
I remember a field trip to a village during my studies.
We were gathering information about traditions, daily life, the usual “cultural research.” Everyone was working on a research they chose.
One of the students in our group had never set foot in a village before.
She was nervous, hesitant to speak to anyone. One of our mentors encouraged her to approach a local man, who happened to be knee-deep in cow manure—literally sorting it.
Trying to break the ice, she asked, “What are you doing?”
The man looked up and, without skipping a beat, said, “I’m digging shit.”
We’d been told villagers enjoy physical labor, so she smiled and replied, “Oh, you must be having a good time then.”
He shot back, “Yeah? Come and do it yourself—see how much fun it is.” Then he laughed.
She meant well. She was polite.
But she had no clue what she was talking about—because she had never lived that reality. It was also a common sense that he might not be enjoying it, but...
She believed the theory, not the people.
That story stuck with me.
Empathy without immersion is just projection.
You don’t get it by watching from a distance. You get it by being there.
That lesson shaped how I see design, too. Because just like that student, too many of us are designing for systems we’ve never experienced, teams we don’t talk to, and realities we assume we understand because someone said so on a slide.
.png)
Fluency Over Handoff Culture
Learning development doesn’t mean abandoning design. It means refusing to be trapped inside its limitations.
It means finally being able to see what’s really under the hood instead of pretending those limitations don’t exist.
It means knowing how to build things with care, not just style.
And maybe most importantly, it means having the tools to question the system—not just the interface.
Because let’s be real: most of the systems we work in don’t need better usability.
They need better values. Better logic. Better foundations.
And we won’t get there with "vibes", UI trends, or another Figma plugin.
We’ll get there by understanding the entire flow—from ethics to infrastructure.
What Comes Next
This journey isn’t about switching sides.
It’s about tearing down the wall between them.
I don’t want to just pass files between roles and hope someone else figures out the hard part.
I want to be in the room where the systems are shaped—and I want to speak both languages when I get there.
I’m still designing. But now, I’m also building. Well, learning...
And I don’t see that as an identity crisis.
I see it as the only honest response to a field that’s gotten way too comfortable with pretending aesthetics equals progress.
PS. I am not giving up sustainability 😉 I am doing it all...