Designing With, Not For Incarcerated Users: Why Accessibility Isn’t Optional

Design is a deeply human-centered craft. But at Recidiviz, our work with incarcerated individuals requires us to be especially rigorous in how we think about and apply design fundamentals like accessibility, iterative feedback, and user empathy. 

For someone coming from a traditional tech background, this work consistently challenges and humbles you. Building products that resonate in this space often requires us to rethink our assumptions about intuitive design, usability testing, and what it truly means to build with users, not just for them.

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Inclusive design looks a little different than what we’re used to

Technology access in prisons is limited—often only available to those enrolled in college—and many residents haven’t used technology in years. While special, internet-restricted tablets are becoming more common (these are the devices we build for), usage varies widely. Because of this, we can’t assume familiarity with common UI patterns like hamburger menus, gear settings, or share arrows. Features that feel obvious to us might be unrecognizable to them, so we design with low tech literacy in mind: avoiding icons, limiting information density, and using clear, explicit instructions for actions and navigation.

We also ensure that all of our copy is written at a 5th grade reading level, in line with the average level of educational attainment for incarcerated individuals. Since our tools cover sensitive and legally regulated details like release dates and eligibility for programs, it’s important that nothing is confusing or easy to misinterpret. Copywriting often becomes one of the longest parts of the product development process as we work to balance thoroughness, ease of understanding, and DOC approval.

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User Research in a Different Context

Conducting user research for us generally means going in person to a prison. In this context, trust-building is especially important. Incarcerated individuals often have limited agency, so we prioritize creating an environment of choice and respect during user interviews. We send research requests and “invitation cards” ahead of time to identify relevant participants and try to ensure they have background before walking into the room with us. We advocate for holding sessions in a room without staff present to make participants as comfortable as possible when answering. We emphasize that interviews are voluntary, and occasionally do have folks leave early or opt out – this is part of the process.

Prison visits also present unique and significant logistical challenges for those doing research. Gaining approval for basic materials, such as computers, pens, or paper, can be a lengthy process, often requiring pre-approval for every item. A key obstacle is the difficulty in gaining access to individuals in higher custody levels, which can skew the research sample and make it less representative of the overall prison population. What's more, the rules and norms for these conducting sessions can vary dramatically from one prison to the next, even within the same state. The environment teaches you to be flexible and patient, and to adapt your plans on the fly. 

Despite these hurdles, building rapport and a sense of psychological safety with participants is often very achievable. At the end of the day, regardless of the circumstances, it’s a conversation where we’re trying to learn about another person. Many participants share that they appreciate the opportunity to be treated with dignity and as individuals, rather than just a number or a case file.

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Feedback Is a Two-Way Street

While some residents are hesitant to share, others are eager to talk—about the product, their experience, or simply about life. In those moments, our role sometimes shifts from “interviewer” to “listener.” We try to create space for their stories—even when they go beyond the scope of our tools—because it’s important that we understand the experiences that lead people to prison, and what their lives are like once they are there. 

It goes without saying that these conversations require a special kind of tact and care. We aim to balance providing enough space for individuals to share their experiences while gently guiding the discussion back to our research questions. This process isn't always smooth and sometimes leads to awkward moments that require careful reflection afterward. We believe it’s an important part of our work—an opportunity and a privilege—to hear out people who often feel unheard, both because we believe there’s intrinsic value in doing so, and also because it helps us develop tools that are relevant and effective.

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All in all, building for incarcerated users isn’t all that different from design in other capacities—it’s about adjusting your definition of accessibility, rolling with some logistical punches, and taking extra care to make the most out of face-time with users.

If you’re a product manager, designer, or engineer curious about applying your skills where they can directly improve lives, know this: there’s a big opportunity to do so in the criminal justice space. This work is hard, constrained, and sometimes frustrating. It forces you to be especially attentive to elements of the design process where you may be able to cut corners in other contexts. 

But the potential for impact and the appreciation we hear from our users makes the choice to work in this space an easy one. A resident in Arizona told us “the fact that you’re in here sitting in a prison, talking to us to build something for us, and ways to make it better, I think that’s pretty cool. You could be doing anything else, but you’re here right now.”

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