If you're the only designer on your team right now, I want you to know: I've been there. Twice.
And the two experiences couldn't have been more different.
The first time was at a crowdfunding platform. Design was genuinely valued. Founders were involved in design conversations. Experiments moved fast, but everyone — product, engineering, design — worked under one roof with mutual respect. That environment grew naturally. I eventually built a small design team, working alongside product owners who understood what design could bring to the table.
The second time was at an enterprise security company. And that nearly broke me.
The team was stretched between the US and India. It was B2B, enterprise, deeply complex. Product managers maintained massive backlogs and stayed on late-night calls syncing with stakeholders overseas. During the day, they'd push decisions on the Indian team — decisions that often didn't make sense.
Everyone spoke technology. Everyone thought they owned design. The CPO I reported to didn't really understand what UX meant. Conversations with him felt like conversations you'd have with a visual designer — "can you make this look better" energy.
I was a showpiece. The designer on the team so investors could feel good about the company caring about experience.
That version — not the first one — is what most solo designers actually face.
The Things That Didn't Work
When I realized nobody took design seriously, my first instinct was to be nice. Stay in good books. Be helpful. Be agreeable.
That backfired fast.
The two product owners I worked with were people who had fought their way through careers that felt like wars. They knew one mode: be louder, push harder, or get ignored. The culture was built around who could yell the most and win.
My niceness just got used to support their wins.
So I tried the opposite. I raised my voice. Pushed back. Fought for design's place in conversations.
But I was just a designer going up against VPs and directors. All they saw was someone making noise without the position to back it up. I was a screamer who didn't make a difference.
Neither approach worked.
What Actually Clicked
I stopped trying to go through the walls and started going around them.
I spoke to individuals across teams. Not to convince them about design — just to understand their problems. I shadowed sales calls with customers. I sat with the technology team and listened to what they thought was broken. I talked to salespeople who'd been in the field for decades.
And here's the important part — I kept the product managers in the loop throughout. Not hiding progress. Not trying to surprise anyone. Not building something in the shadows to reveal later like a "told you so" moment.
Because the one thing I learned quickly is this: don't act like you know users better than the salesperson who's been talking to them for 15 years.
Don't try to outsmart people. You'll just hurt small egos and create enemies.
Instead, I started speaking their language.
I stopped talking about "user research" and started talking about "onboarding time." I stopped saying "we need to understand user needs" and started saying "we can reduce the time it takes for a new customer to go live by x%."
Everyone listens when you talk about numbers they care about. Not design jargon they don't.
Did they believe me immediately? No. But as the studies continued and results started showing, trust built. Slowly.
The Advocate Who Changed Everything
Somewhere during this time, I found an unlikely ally — a business vertical head.
He wasn't a design person. In the beginning, our conversations were mostly me venting about how nobody cares. And honestly, even with good intentions, he didn't really know what it takes to drive experience at a leadership level.
But we started working on a project together. Over time, through the work itself, he started seeing how design actually operates. Not the deliverables, but the thinking. The way you approach problems. The way you connect research to decisions.
He started turning up. Showing interest. Asking questions.
That's when I had a real one-on-one conversation with him. Spoke to my manager. And slowly, we started doing more together — running workshops, presenting at internal forums, talking about the future of design in the company.
Did he always have time for me? No. Did it happen fast? Definitely not.
But it worked.
We ended up growing the design team from just me to 4 designers. And I was leading them.
Not in a day. Not even close.
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me
If you're the solo designer right now, here's what I want you to hear:
1. Stop proving design's value in design language
Nobody outside of design cares about your process diagrams, your double diamonds, or your research frameworks. They care about their problems. Talk about their problems. In their language. With numbers they recognize.
2. Don't hide your work or try to surprise people
It's tempting to work in isolation and then reveal something amazing. But that's a trap. Keep stakeholders in the loop — even the difficult ones. Especially the difficult ones. Surprises create enemies, not allies.
3. Find your advocate
It doesn't have to be a design leader. It can be a business head, a product person, a founder who gets it — someone higher up who can open doors you can't reach yet. If your organization doesn't have anyone like that, you either build that relationship from scratch (like I did), or you accept that growth will be painfully slow.
4. Push for design representation at the leadership level
Because until experience has a voice at the top, you'll always be fighting uphill. My organization wasn't ready to promote me or hire a design leader. So I found an alternative path through an unlikely ally. But the real fix? Companies recognizing that experience needs to be at the table — not just under it.
5. It takes consistent effort beyond project delivery
This is the hardest truth. If you just deliver projects and hope someone notices, you'll be waiting forever. Growth as a solo designer requires investing time in relationship building, speaking their language, finding allies, and being patient without being passive.
Because if you don't do that, you end up walking over the same problems again and again. Until the pain just starts feeling normal. Like it's part of the job. It's not. And it shouldn't be.
Final Thoughts
Being the solo designer is one of the hardest positions in a company. You're often misunderstood, undervalued, and fighting battles that nobody else sees.
But it's also an incredible opportunity to grow — not just as a designer, but as a strategist, a communicator, and a leader.
The skills you build navigating stakeholder politics, speaking business language, and building trust across teams? Those are the skills that eventually get you to the leadership table.
You just have to survive long enough to get there.
Need Help Navigating This?
If you're the solo designer right now and feeling stuck, I've been exactly where you are.
I mentor designers who are trying to grow their careers, build strategic thinking skills, and navigate challenging work environments.
Join our community of designers navigating similar challenges, or tune into our podcast for more real stories from the field.
Explore mentoring at Xperience Wave →
Or just reach out — I'm always happy to chat.
— Murad, Head of Product and Design
