First, do no harm: leading with accessibility and inclusive design
“First, do no harm” is the part of the Hippocratic Oath most people know. And in product design, that’s where our own oath should start too. Too often, accessibility and inclusive design get dragged behind the process, tacked on as compliance checks, or worse, abandoned when timelines tighten. But if we’re serious about ethics in design, these shouldn’t be afterthoughts. They should be the first questions we ask.
Because harm in design isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it looks like:
A banking app that doesn’t work with screen readers, cutting someone off from financial independence.
A healthcare form that only accepts binary gender options, erasing whole groups of people with one dropdown.
A scheduling tool that ignores non-Western calendars, signaling who belongs and who doesn’t.
A generative AI tool that spits out stereotypes, reinforcing bias instead of breaking it.
None of these decisions are neutral. They all carry weight.
And here’s the truth: accessibility and inclusion aren’t just “for other people.” They’re for everyone. Every single one of us is only one event or situation away from needing accessible design.
Break an arm, and suddenly you can’t use a mouse with your dominant hand, or type with two hands. Carry a baby in one arm, and you’re functionally one-handed while trying to order dinner on your phone. Lose your glasses, have an eye surgery, age into arthritis - your abilities shift, sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently, sometimes just for a moment.
Accessible design creates systems
Accessibility also isn’t about one-size-fits-all fixes. Light mode vs. dark mode is a perfect example, and one many people think of first when it comes to accessibility. Many designers and tech companies favor dark mode, but this is often hard for people with astigmatism because of how light scatters in low contrast. But as someone like me who’s had a retinal detachment and now lives with perpetual and permanent light sensitivity, light mode can feel like staring directly into the surface of the sun. Both of these situations are valid, and both need different things.
That’s the larger point: accessibility isn’t about declaring a winner. It’s about offering options. It’s about designing for both/and, not either/or.
Dark/light modes are only scratching the surface of accessibility and inclusivity. True accessibility goes beyond a toggle. Think:
Text scaling and reflow for people with vision changes.
Reduced motion settings for people sensitive to animation or vestibular disorders.
High contrast themes for those who need sharper visual separation.
Flexible input methods (voice, keyboard, touch) for different physical abilities or situational needs.
Accessibility is about designing a system of modes, not a single mode. Because needs aren’t static. They shift with context, health, age, and circumstance. And when we design for static needs, we lock people out.
Why this matters
Leading with accessibility and inclusivity isn’t about slowing down or adding red tape. It’s about designing with adaptibility, resilience, and respect. When you prioritize it early, you avoid rework, you expand your market, and you build trust. But more importantly, you the quiet harm of excluding, frustrating, or demeaning people who are already underrepresented.
If product design were to take an oath, inclusivity and accessibility should sit right at the top because if we don’t design for everyone, we’re harming someone. And harm doesn’t just erode trust in your product. It erodes trust in the industry as a whole.
So maybe “first, do no harm” isn’t just a nice-sounding phrase for us to borrow. Maybe it’s the design standard we’ve been missing.
