Center the user’s experience

Design for real people, not a list of requirements

This project demanded deep empathy. The stakes were high: vulnerable people reaching out for help, and a strained system trying to respond.

While the brief laid out organizational goals, our responsibility as human-centered designers was to validate whether those goals aligned with public needs. Our process was grounded in lived experience, not assumptions.

Understanding our users

We started by mapping all of the portal’s user groups—not just those submitting complaints, but those receiving, processing, and responding to them. The complaint intake journey extended across multiple teams and systems. It wasn’t just a form; it was a pipeline that rippled across the DOJ.

We centered our most vulnerable users and designed outward from their needs. That included:

• People experiencing discrimination and civil rights violations

• People with low digital literacy or limited English proficiency

• Internal CRT staff navigating outdated systems and enormous emotional labor

Learning from our users

Through discovery and design, we engaged over 220 research participants:

• 172 members of the public (connected through past complainants, civil rights organizations, and external calls for participation)

• 50 internal CRT staff

We used interviews, cognitive walkthroughs, shadowing, and workshops to understand pain points from both sides. We didn’t guess what users needed—we asked.

Through this, we mapped the key external and internal user journeys.

We created this joint persona story to help make the case for human-centered design with stakeholders, which helped build empathy and understanding of the issues.

This feels like she’s just shouting into the abyss:

“I have to do all the work to make myself be visible, heard, and taken seriously when I’m the victim.”

Quote from public research participant

So how did we fix it?

Lead with inclusion

It’s a through line of the work, not a goal post for the end.

Inclusion wasn’t an afterthought, but a foundational principle on this project. That meant inclusive team dynamics, design practices, and user experiences.

Starting from within

Our team was intentionally diverse, and that made a measurable impact on the product. Our lived experiences informed our choices—because we knew what it felt like to be misunderstood or excluded by systems.

For example:

• Our design team was all women for the first year (still a rarity in the tech world).

• One member was Deaf, and others had family members who used screen readers or had cognitive disabilities.

• We reflected a broad range of racial, ethnic, geographic, and generational identities.

This wasn’t about optics. It made our collaboration richer, our perspective broader, and our empathy sharper.

Building inclusion into the process

Inclusion became procedural, not just philosophical. Government websites need to legally be accessible to people with varying abilities (thanks to the Americans with Disabilities Act!)—and because it’s the right thing to do!

We baked accessibility it into every step:

• Accessibility requirements for every feature from day one.

• Design reviews that prioritized readability, contrast, screen reader support, and cognitive load.

• Cross-functional ownership—designers, developers, and partners were all responsible.

• External audits to ensure we were meeting (and exceeding) accessibility standards.

We didn’t just meet compliance. We made inclusion a creative constraint—and it made the product better.

Representation matters

Visual and verbal representation sends a message: You belong here.

Language access

We were able to add 6 new languages, in addition to originally launching with English and Spanish, although we wanted more to be available. This is especially important when it comes to civil rights issues related to immigration, discrimination or even hate crimes based on your real or assumed ethnicity.

Hero image on landing page

We wanted the hero image to be inspiring but relatable. One of CRT’s goals was to help present civil rights in a modern way. So often the movement is only represented only through 1960s civil rights imagery, when the fight for equality didn’t end in that era. My challenge was how to show “civil rights” for the whole United States in one image (no pressure!)

I created several directions that explored different visual styles and conducted visual preference testing with public research participants. One method was a survey in which I asked participants to choose from a list of words they thought best described each version.

These were the 3 visual design directions I tested and the top 3 words participants associated them with. I followed up by asking which they liked the best and why.

I took the feedback and weighed it with what was most important to the Division in terms of their visual voice/tone. In the end I combined the best elements of all, making an approachable image that draws from our history of civil rights, but that feels relevant to the present, and is easy to read.

The inclusivity and empathy-centered design extended to our content writing as well.

Some of my favorite examples:

• On the landing page it says, “We uphold the civil rights of all people in the United States.” This one seems simple, but historically these reports were referred to as “citizen complaints”—but these laws don’t just cover U.S. citizens, but anyone in the U.S. There are specific laws that protect non-citizens or those in the process of becoming citizens. We wanted to call this out front and center—that the civil rights division is a place for all people.

• We advise individuals to call 911 if they or someone else is in immediate danger. However, we recognized the need for a more thoughtful approach in cases involving police misconduct. Directing someone to contact 911—when the police may be the subject of their complaint—can feel dismissive or even retraumatizing. To address this, I ensured the content included an alternative path: users are advised to contact the FBI in such cases, with a clear explanation and a direct link provided.

• On the section of the form where users are asked to identify the personal characteristics they believe contributed to their mistreatment, we took particular care with how we addressed immigration and citizenship status. We wanted to clearly communicate that individuals—regardless of their documentation status—have rights, and that CRT treats this information with strict confidentiality.

While we understood that deep-seated mistrust cannot be fully resolved through language alone, it was essential to provide reassurance and transparency wherever possible to help individuals feel safe in sharing their experiences.

Meet users where they are

Be prepared to listen and adapt.

This project demanded a trauma-informed, radically empathetic approach. Many of our users were reaching out at their lowest points—hurt, confused, and scared.

Trauma-informed research

We adapted our methods for sensitivity:

• Explained informed consent clearly and compassionately, made sure they knew they’d be anonymized, and deleted their data as soon as possible.

• Let participants control the depth of their sharing and that they could stop at any point.

• Responded humanely during interviews, acknowledging trauma when appropriate.

• Followed up with transparency and gratitude—recognizing we could not have done this work without their insights and keeping them abreast of new developments.

We also took care of ourselves. Designing in this space was emotionally intense. Our team:

• Shared feelings honestly in retros.

• Created moments of “happy down time.”

• Celebrated wins, big and small.

We also advocated for CRT staff—some of whom had no mental health support despite handling deeply traumatic cases daily. That advocacy extended beyond the scope of our work, but we still pushed for change.

Doing the hard work to make it simple

We wanted to make it as simple as possible for our users to get the help they need. Our job was to break down barriers to entry.

Iterative design

We streamlined the complaint form through countless iterations. Unlike a regular client-designer relationship with a set amount of iterations, we kept prototyping, testing, and refining until we felt it was the best it could be for the first product launch.

For example, in the beginning we tried to address the un-actionable complaints issue by designing a prototype with Google Forms, where we tried to tell users what the Division couldn’t help with first. However, this did not work—it turned out to be un-intuitive and confusing for users, so we moved away from that idea!

Making key actions immediate and obvious

We recognized that some users arrive at the site ready to take immediate action, so we prioritized a clear and accessible path to begin the reporting process without requiring unnecessary decision-making upfront. The primary call-to-action reads, “If you believe your civil rights, or someone else’s, have been violated, submit a report using our online form,” followed by a prominent “Start a report” button.

At the same time, we understood that other users may prefer to learn more abotut the process before proceeding. To support this, I designed the landing page to offer multiple opportunities to explore more information. For example, users can browse categorized examples of civil rights violations to help determine whether this is the appropriate place to submit their concern.

User-centered vs org-centered journey

We redesigned the content and flow around user needs, not organizational structure. For example, before, the “How to file” page had each Section describe their individual process, with no continuity. We worked with them to create a more intuitive and streamlined journey that is centered around what actually happened to the person and why they are seeking help. This helps them tell their story in a more natural way, and all of the routing happens automatically behind the scenes.

It now asks “What is your primary reason for contacting the civil rights division?” and gives clear pathways like workplace discrimination or employment related problem, housing discrimination, mistreated by police, correctional staff, or inmates, etc. Additionally, each topic includes concrete examples, which were extremely helpful in reassuring users they were in the right place, and increased their confidence as they were navigating the form.

Plain language

Writing in plain language is not only a legal requirement for federal agencies, but also a practical necessity—especially given that the average reading level in the U.S. is around seventh grade. Our goal was to ensure the content was clear, accessible, and easy to understand for as many people as possible. We also aimed to convey a sense of human connection: real people wrote this form, and real people will read and respond to the reports submitted. In doing so, we sought to counter the perception of government as impersonal or inaccessible and instead reflect the humanity behind the work.

Embracing different ways of participating

Internally, we adapted too. Not everyone contributed the same way—some CRT staff loved sticky notes and workshops, others needed one-on-one conversations to open up, and some responded best with follow-up emails. We made space for all of it. Empathy means flexibility—not forcing everyone into the same mold.

“One of the biggest and lasting benefits isn’t just the portal—it’s that specialists across sections are now working together. That is such a big deal.”

Quote from Civil Right Division leadership

Resist the “savior complex”

One of the common pitfalls in human-centered and service design is the tendency for designers to assume the role of a “fixer”—arriving with all the solutions and best practices in hand. While it's important to have confidence in your design skills, it's equally critical to approach this work with humility.

The reality is that we are not the subject matter experts—our partners are. They understand the intricacies of their work, the systemic challenges they face, and often have valuable insights into what needs to change. However, years of navigating rigid hierarchies or organizational inaction may have left them discouraged or unheard.

Our role is to listen first. To ensure our collaborators feel seen, respected, and understood. True progress begins when we build from their lived expertise rather than imposing our own assumptions. It is not only ineffective—but potentially harmful—to position ourselves as more capable or knowledgeable than those doing the work every day, especially when many barriers they face are beyond their control.

Setting honest expectations

Empathy also means honesty (we didn’t want to create false hope).

The reality is that, no matter how great of a product we make, there are still other beurocratic challenges that exist. We did the best we could to make our piece of the puzzle the best it could be, and tried to make changes outside where we could, but we were also transparent about:

• What the DOJ can and can’t do.

• What users should expect after submitting.

• How long it might take.

• What to do in case of emergency.

We built confirmation pages and email templates that provided next steps, not just vague reassurance. We also equipped intake staff with tools to triage and respond faster, more clearly, and with empathy.

The confirmation email was a big internal win—it was the first integrated email system in the Division’s history!