If I ask you to think about “loud” design vs. “listening” design, I’m curious what comes to mind.

A “loud” design could be bold colours, aggressive fonts, attention-grabbing animations—all fighting for eyeballs in an increasingly noisy world. But what if the most compelling messaging actually starts with your mouth shut?

You’ll see this everywhere once you start looking for it.

An offline example: think about how much politicians love town halls… until someone asks an actual question.

You know the moment—when a real person with a real problem cuts through the talking points and suddenly all that polished messaging feels misdirected and hollow. The disconnect is painful.

Now think about the last time you walked into a room and immediately knew you didn't belong. Maybe it was the lighting, the music, the way people were dressed. Or maybe it was subtler—something coded, something in the air that said "this wasn't made for you."

That's what happens when design prioritizes talking over listening.

When assumptions meet reality

Picture this: a women entrepreneur’s networking group with a high heel in their logo. Because women, y'know? #girlboss. Barf.

The symbolism is so heavy-handed it's alllllmost comical. Only not at all.

What exactly was it trying to say? That professional women are defined by their footwear? That stilettos are required for success? That we're all clicking our way to the boardroom in matching pumps?

Lemme tell ya, when I joined the leadership committee of that group, that ridiculous logo was the first thing to go.

But let’s zoom out and think about how that happened in the first place. Someone sat in a room and thought: "How do we show this is for women?" And landed on the most stereotypical visual shorthand they could find. Betcha no one asked what women entrepreneurs actually wanted to be associated with. And forget cis women, this messaging could outright alienate trans and nonbinary folks, who could (and I argue should) have been welcomed into the same space. No one wondered if reducing ambition to a high heeled shoe might feel... oh, I don’t know… deeply effing insulting?

We get so caught up in our own aesthetic preferences, our creative vision, our brand guidelines that we forget to ask: does this actually resonate with the people we're trying to reach?

Design that listens starts with uncomfortable questions. What assumptions am I making? What would I discover if I shut up for five minutes? What lived experiences are at play?

Good design doesn't impose itself, it responds. It reflects. Sometimes it even challenges, but only after it's earned the right through genuine understanding. This is the opportunity for resonance.

Real listening means sitting with discomfort. It means your first idea probably sucks. It means designing for people's actual lives, not the Instagram version of their lives.

Most brands are having monologues disguised as conversations. They ask "How can we make people want what we're selling?" instead of "What do people actually need?"

You know this, you've seen it everywhere. It’s classic advertising.

The difference is everything.

Your people are already telling you what they want. In their comments, their complaints, their action and inaction. In what they share and what they ignore. In the gap between what they say and what they do.

But are you listening? Or are you just waiting for your turn to talk?

I've been working on something for people who get this—good folks doing good work, ready to turn listening into action. More on that soon.

What's your audience whispering that you're not hearing?

About Reesa​
​I work with people who give a damn—about their message, their mission, and the people they serve. Your message matters™. Together, we craft work that deeply resonates with your audience and helps you achieve your goals.
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As active member of the Association of Registered Graphic Designers of Canada, I'm proud to serve on its bright and tenacious Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion Committee.

Beyond design, I'm a parent to a young girl gang, and move from weightlifting to vernacular jazz dance (though seldom together), along with reading, cooking, and reading about cooking. I'm always happy to talk about vegetarian food or my temperamental sourdough starter, Pudding.
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