Why “Design for the Other 90%” Still Feels Uncomfortable Today

The phrase changed design history, but its top-down frame may still be limiting how we think about design.

©Unsplash

Design for the other 90%

In 2007, Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum exhibited ‘Design for the other 90%’ which inspired lots of designers, engineers and social entrepreneurs around the world. It talked about inequality highlighting that nearly 90% (5.83 billion) out of the total population of 6.5 billion* have little or no access to most of the products and services many of us take for granted.

* This figure has now changed. In 2025, the world population is estimated at 8 billion.

© Cooper-Hewitt Design Museum

According to the World Inequality Report in 2026, the top 10% owns 75% of wealth while the bottom 50% captures 2%. At the very peak, inequality becomes staggering. The top one-in-a-million (about 5,600 people) earn, on average, one-eighth of what the bottom 50% together receive.

© World Inequality Report 2026

© World Inequality Report 2026

The world view presented by the exhibition ‘Design for the other 90%’ is based on a pyramid structure. Along the Y-axis, people are arranged from top to bottom according to the wealth they possess. I think this is a very important topic to discuss but there is also an uncomfortable truth behind it.

©Missionit

Who is the speaker, and who is the audience of this message? It is those in the top 10%.

I think it can be paraphrased as ‘Listen up, top 10%. Let’s pay attention to the other 90% now.’ I do not think anyone in that 90% would say ‘Now let’s design for the other 90%.’

Perhaps because of this framing, around 2010, design students began to compete to present concept projects about solving problems in Africa. I still remember one concept in which African children were making music by tapping plastic water bottles distributed by international aid organizations, and that was even honored in international design awards.

There is a subtle yet unmistakable perception. The frame runs from the top down. And because of that, ‘Design for the other 90%’ can carry the unintentional impression that a fixed hierarchy exists.

Design with 10%

I suggest a slightly different concept: ‘Design with 10%.’

The figure, 10% here, accounts the same people as the 90% of the original phrase, but it comes from a very different frame. Instead of using the Y-axis to represent wealth, I used the X-axis to represent a spectrum of sense.

©Missionit

You can think of it like a normal distribution in mathematics. It forms a bell curve, with most people clustered around the middle and fewer people appearing toward either end. Human senses work in a similar way. Most people fall within a generally shared range of sensory ability, but at the edges are people whose senses may be less responsive or much more sensitive than average. If we think about the full range of human senses such as sight, hearing, and touch, about 10 percent of people cannot use both hands, cannot see, or cannot hear, and instead rely on touch or other senses to understand the world around them. Designing with the 10 percent means designing with people at those edges of the sensory spectrum, not just for those in the middle.

Accessibility has only recently started to receive the attention, but even 10 years ago, it was barely discussed in any meaningful way. Design has long been centered on the majority. As a result, many people within that 10% were excluded from products, services and spaces. For example, a small step at an entrance can stop someone from entering a space, and an image without alt text can shut someone out completely.

Closing the experience gap

Why should designers work with people at the edges of the spectrum?

There is, of course, an ethical answer. Everyone has the right to access and use products and services. Unless there is a legitimate safety issue, no one should be excluded because of their physical or cognitive condition. But there is also a practical answer. It is important to include them from the perspective of growth and expansion. For a business, this can also mean expanding opportunity and profit. If a design can meet the needs of people at both ends of the user-experience spectrum, then it is even more likely to work well for the majority in between.

©Missionit

What matters here is the idea of the experience gap.

The experience gap is the distance between designers and users that comes from differences in lived experience. Designers and users do not move through the world in the same way. And because of that, a gap emerges between what a designer assumes and what a user actually experiences. Can a designer ever understand a user completely? Perhaps when designing only for themselves. But the moment design is intended for someone else — especially for many others — complete understanding becomes nearly impossible.

This gap grows wider when designers and users share fewer points of reference. Differences in physical ability, sensory perception, cognitive patterns, language, culture, and living environment all shape how a person encounters a product or service. A design student in Korea cannot simply assume they understand the daily reality of a child growing up in Africa. A sighted person cannot fully know what it means to live for twenty years as someone who is blind.

The smaller the experience gap, the more likely a design is to meet real needs. When designers understand a user’s context with greater depth and accuracy, they are better able to create products and services that feel relevant, usable, and necessary. When that understanding is shallow, even well-intentioned design can fail. The greater the gap, the harder it becomes to create something that genuinely works for the people it is meant to serve.

When designers and users are finally able to meet from something closer to the same point of view, design becomes truly user-centered design. ©Missionit

Participatory design

When we talk about “designing with the 10%,” we mean involving people who are often excluded from mainstream design processes as active participants in shaping the outcome. But participation can take many forms. Are we simply collecting opinions? Are we co-creating ideas together? Or are we creating the conditions for people to design independently on their own?

There are many possible approaches. Supporting fully independent creation can be powerful, but it often requires long-term education, guidance, and a broader support system. So in many real-world projects, gathering deep user input and building through co-creation is quite common practice. In that process, three things matter most: observation, discussion, and feedback.

A project we did with the Seoul Museum of Art is a good example.

When we began, we only knew that we wanted to create a physical tool of some kind. Instead of starting with fixed answers, we started with a blank page. We designed a series of sessions that involved people with visual and developmental disabilities, inviting them to participate multiple times throughout the project.

In an ideal setting, users might also take part in every decision process, from product design to material selection. In practice, however, time and physical constraints often make that difficult. Even then, co-creation is still possible. If participants are able to give rich, honest feedback and that feedback meaningfully shapes the outcome, they are part of the creative process.

That was our approach. We listened closely to what participants told us about material, size, texture, and usability, and we reflected those insights in the design.

To close the experience gap, we need to understand what it actually feels like to move through a museum. This understanding does not come from theory alone. It comes from being there together walking, observing, talking, asking and listening. In that sense, inclusive design begins with humility. We learn from the people we are designing with.

Insight does not come from a textbook. It comes from the field. Each participant becomes a channel of insight.

Speed matters most for soft mock-ups. The goal is not to present something polished. The goal is to test a hypothesis quickly. ©Missionit

How many people should participate? How many sessions are enough? How long should the process take?

It depends.

But one thing is certain. The more time you spend with people, the deeper your understanding becomes. Still, no matter the scale of the project, the basic rhythm remains the same: learn from experience, prototype quickly, gather feedback, and refine.

In our case, we conducted 7 sessions in total with participants throughout 3 stages.

In the first stage, we focused on drawing out insights based on the user’s real experiences. In the second stage, we turned ideas into soft mock-ups so we could gather feedback quickly. At this point, perfection is not important. The purpose of a soft mock-up is not completeness. It is speed. It is a tool for testing ideas, uncovering weaknesses, and finding directions for improvement.

In the third stage, we developed a hard mock-up that was much closer to the final form, with more realistic details and finishing. During this phase, participants used the mock-up while viewing the exhibition, and we observed how the design functioned in context.

By the hard mock-up stage, the product should be close to its final form. Of course, for some projects that stage may come in the fifth round, or the seventh. The more cycles you go through, the more complete the outcome becomes. ©Missionit

If conventional design has mostly been centered on the final product, inclusive design is centered on the process. This process does not happen. It must be designed with intention. That, too, is design.

If I had to name three essential elements of inclusive design, they would be these.

First, user-centered design. Second, a high level of accessibility so that no specific user group is excluded. Third, authenticity.

That last one matters more than people think. Without it, the process would easily be dismissed as inefficient, excessive, or unnecessary.

I hope more designers, institutions, and decision-makers begin to see it that way.

All my articles are grounded in real-world insights drawn from recent projects. Each piece is carefully crafted by me and thoughtfully edited by Andy Taekhyung Kim in the UK. By reading and sharing my stories, you’re supporting a genuine human effort to make the world a more inclusive place.

If you’re interested in insights on inclusive UX and accessibility, particularly in South Korea, the UK, or Southeast Asia, feel free to reach out (hello@missionit.co). I’d love to connect.