My thesis explores how type design can challenge linguistic inequities and support cultural preservation, focusing on inclusive practices by women, Indigenous, Black, and LGBTQ+ designers. Alongside critical analysis of Unicode, digital infrastructure, and design history, the book also includes creative coding experiments with non-Latin scripts, where typography generates through user interaction.
This thesis is a response to the deep-rooted inequities embedded within the history and systems of type design. It explores how typography can serve not only as a visual form but as a cultural and political tool, one capable of resisting erasure, reclaiming voice, and preserving language. Through this work, I examine the ways in which type design has historically excluded non-Western scripts and marginalized communities, while also spotlighting the inclusive practices of women, Indigenous, Black, and LGBTQ+ designers who are actively reshaping the field. At the heart of this project is a critical analysis of Unicode and the digital infrastructure that governs written communication in contemporary life. I interrogate the limitations of these systems and trace how design history has often prioritized the Latin alphabet, marginalizing countless other scripts. Alongside this theoretical framework, the book includes a series of creative coding experiments using p5.js that engage with non-Latin scripts, experiments where typography emerges not statically, but dynamically, through user interaction. Each visual is a gesture toward a decolonized approach to type, where users co-create meaning through generative, script-diverse displays. The design of this book reflects the themes of the research itself: it is not only a document of inquiry but a visual and interactive experience. Through these explorations, I hope to emphasize that typography is not neutral, it carries the weight of history, systems, and culture. But it also holds immense potential as a site of resistance, revival, and radical inclusion in our digital future.
In the digital age, text is the foundation of communication, yet not all languages and scripts are equally supported in digital environments. The dominance of Latin-based typographic systems has historically shaped the development of digital infrastructure, often marginalizing non-Latin scripts and Indigenous languages. Unicode, the universal standard for character encoding, plays a crucial role in linguistic accessibility by assigning unique code points to characters across diverse writing systems. However, gaps in Unicode support, combined with the complexities of encoding non-Latin scripts, continue to create barriers for linguistic representation online. This study explores how the prioritization of Latin scripts in type design and computing has contributed to the digital exclusion of underrepresented languages, reinforcing colonial hierarchies in technological development. By examining the role of Unicode, UTF-8 encoding, and the technical challenges of supporting non-Latin characters, this research advocates for the decolonization of type design. Centering the work of designers and technologists from historically marginalized communities, this study underscores the importance of expanding typographic accessibility, ensuring that all languages, especially endangered and Indigenous ones, have a place in digital communication.
The Latin script, also known as the Roman alphabet, is a writing system using 26 letters (A–Z) that originated from the Greek alphabet and is used to write many languages, including English, Spanish, and French. The Latin script is the most widely used alphabetic writing system in the world. Latin is the standard script of the English language and the languages of most of Europe and those areas settled by Europeans. The Latin script was developed from the Etruscan alphabet at some time prior to 600 bce and can be traced through Etruscan, Greek, and Phoenician scripts to the North Semitic alphabet used in Syria and Palestine about 1100 bce. Fabiola Mejía is an independent type designer from San José, Costa Rica. She completed the Type@Cooper Condensed Program in New York in 2017 and earned an MA in Typeface Design from TypeMedia at the Royal Academy of Art (KABK) in the Netherlands in 2019. In addition to working remotely with Dinamo, she recently founded SUPERCONTINENTE, a research and archival platform dedicated to her type design practice and collaborative graphic explorations.
SEGUETA is a carefully-sharpened and visibly confident typeface with an extreme width and prominent serifs. It is informed by Stephenson Blake’s Wide Latin (1883) and Walter Haettenschweiler’s legendary Lettera drawings, while also taking cues from rowel spurs and barbed wire. Its lower contrast stylistic alternates allow for dynamic arrangements and play with the typeface’s overarching elegant edge.
Unicode plays a fundamental role in digital accessibility by ensuring that every character, regardless of script, has a unique code point, allowing computers to store and process text from diverse languages. UTF-8, the most widely used encoding method, translates these code points into variable-length sequences of bytes, efficiently supporting both Latin and non-Latin scripts. However, due to the complexity of certain writing systems, non-Latin characters often require more storage space. While Latin-based scripts can often be represented using a single byte in older encodings like ASCII, scripts such as Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, and Cyrillic often need two or more bytes in Unicode-based encodings. This is not just a technical issue but a reflection of the historical prioritization of Latin script in digital infrastructure, which has shaped the accessibility and representation of global languages online. This disparity in encoding connects directly to my thesis on decolonizing type design and advocating for greater inclusivity in digital typography. Many Indigenous and non-Western languages lack proper Unicode support, making it difficult to digitize, type, or preserve them in modern communication systems. Additionally, scripts that use logographic characters, right-to-left orientations, or complex ligatures are often marginalized in typographic design due to the added encoding and rendering challenges. By centering underrepresented scripts and designers, my research seeks to challenge the dominance of Latin-based systems and promote linguistic equity in digital spaces. Expanding Unicode support and designing typefaces for historically overlooked scripts is crucial in ensuring that digital platforms are inclusive, enabling communities to preserve their languages and cultural identities in the digital age. Omnibus Type, the foundry behind the Chivo typeface featured throughout this book, is dedicated to expanding the accessibility of digital typography. Founded in 2011 as a cooperative, Omnibus Type brings together designers from Argentina and Mexico with the shared goal of creating high-quality typefaces that are both aesthetically refined and functionally adaptable. Chivo, designed by Héctor Gatti, embodies the foundry’s commitment to legibility and versatility, making it an ideal choice for a wide range of applications. With its neo-grotesque structure and seven weight variations, Chivo provides a strong visual identity for my book while ensuring an optimal reading experience across print and digital formats. The inclusion of Chivo in my project highlights the importance of showcasing type designers who prioritize accessibility and linguistic inclusivity. Omnibus Type’s work reflects a broader movement within the design community, one that seeks to bridge the gap between different languages, scripts, and communication needs. By offering free, open-source typefaces, the foundry ensures that high-quality typography is available to designers, brands, and communities worldwide, regardless of financial or technological barriers. Featuring Chivo not only enhances my book’s design but also aligns with my broader advocacy for equitable digital communication, recognizing type design as a crucial tool in preserving linguistic diversity and fostering more inclusive visual narratives.
Golnar Kat Rahmani is a type designer and founder of Studio Kat Rahmani in Berlin, specializing in typography, type design, and visual identity with a focus on multilingual typography, particularly Persian and Arabic scripts. She is the creator of Type & Politics, an initiative aimed at freeing Arabic and Persian type from ideological connotations by fostering understanding, aesthetics, and cultural exchange. Through workshops and lectures, she challenges negative perceptions and promotes the appreciation of Arabic typography in Western contexts.
Snaga Grotesk broadens its horizons linguistically, as it now supports Arabic, and artistically, thanks to the addition of exciting unicase variants for Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic. While the presence of decorative elements makes most Arabic fonts look quite playful, Snaga Arabic aims to be a highly readable and reliable voice for serious interactions with the reader. Designed in collaboration with Berlin- based Iranian designer Golnar Kat Rahmani, it is a dynamic Arabic with a subtle reverse contrast.
The typeface judiciously combines open and closed forms to achieve optimal readability in smaller type sizes. One of its primary goals was to have the original Snaga and the Arabic complement mix seamlessly so that Latin words don’t stand out in Arabic text. By introducing Snaga Grotesk’s characteristic shapes and curves into the Arabic script, Snaga Arabic turned into an ‘Arabic grotesk’, a rare, valuable style in the typographic landscape. Use Snaga Arabic to project stability and confidence.
Irene Vlachou is a type designer and Greek type consultant with a Master’s degree in Type Design from the University of Reading (2004). She has collaborated with international type foundries and corporations, specializing in Greek typography. From 2013 to 2019, she served as a senior designer and variable font expert at Type-Together. Since January 2020, she has returned to full-time freelancing, focusing on Greek and variable fonts.
Noto Sans is a versatile, unmodulated typeface designed to support Latin, Cyrillic, and Greek scripts, serving as both a standalone typeface and a complementary choice for script-specific Noto Sans fonts. As part of the larger Noto font collection, which aims to provide typographic harmony across all modern and ancient languages, Noto Sans offers a wide range of styles, including italics, multiple weights, and widths. With 3,741 glyphs, 28 OpenType features, and support for 2,840 characters from 30 Unicode blocks, it ensures broad linguistic coverage and typographic flexibility.
The Greek type design within Noto Sans, crafted by Irene Vlachou, reflects the historical and structural intricacies of the Greek script, which has been used since the 8th century BCE. Greek is recognized as the first “true alphabet” with distinct consonant and vowel letters, standardized in the 4th century BCE by Eucleides. The script, which historically included polytonic spelling with multiple diacritics, transitioned to a monotonic system in 1982. Noto Sans Greek maintains the script’s essential characteristics, including positional letter variants like sigma (σ/ς) and forms used in scientific notation, while ensuring readability and compatibility across digital platforms through advanced text shaping support. Unicode and digital typographic support play a crucial role in the preservation and accessibility of Indigenous Canadian Syllabics, ensuring that Indigenous communities can use their languages seamlessly across digital platforms. The “Indigenous Language Support, A Design Process” virtual lecture with Kevin King, hosted by Words of Type on March 21, 2025, highlighted the ongoing challenges faced by Indigenous language communities in maintaining digital accessibility. King, a type researcher and designer, has collaborated with Indigenous groups to address technical barriers such as incomplete Unicode representation, inadequate font support, and the absence of necessary keyboard layouts. These challenges hinder language revitalization efforts, as digital spaces, like smartphones, computers, and online platforms are essential for language engagement and transmission. Without proper typographic infrastructure, Indigenous languages face obstacles in being fully integrated into modern communication, which impacts both daily usage and long-term preservation. The accessibility and preservation of Indigenous languages in digital spaces are intrinsically tied to Unicode support and typographic development. Indigenous communities across North America, particularly those using Canadian Syllabics, face significant challenges in accessing their languages on digital platforms due to incomplete Unicode representation, inadequate font support, and a lack of standardized keyboard layouts. These barriers limit the ability of Indigenous peoples to engage with their language online, affecting everyday communication, educational efforts, and broader language revitalization initiatives.
Joi T. Arcand is an artist from Muskeg Lake Cree Nation, Saskatchewan, Treaty 6 Territory, currently residing in Ottawa, Ontario. She received her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree with Great Distinction from the University of Saskatchewan in 2006. In 2018, Arcand was shortlisted for the prestigious Sobey Art Award. Her practice includes installation, photography and design and is characterized by a visionary and subversive reclamation and indigenization of public spaces through the use of Cree language and syllabics.
Joi T. Arcand’s practice includes photography, graphic design, and is characterized by a visionary and subversive reclamation and Indigenization of public spaces through the use of Cree language and syllabics. In her recent work with neon signs, Arcand connects to her complex relationship with the language by making it highly visible to the general public. Conversations from her inner-world as a nēhiyaw iskwēsis growing up on the Prairies are translated into nēhiyawēwin and reproduced in neon lights, creating an inviting and vibrant contradiction.
Attending the “Indigenous Language Support, A Design Process” virtual lecture by Kevin King on March 21, 2025, through Words of Type reinforced the importance of overcoming these typographic and technical challenges. King, a type designer and researcher, emphasized how typography shapes orthography and affects comprehension. His work with Typotheque highlights how collaborative partnerships with Indigenous communities can lead to the development of Unicode-compliant fonts that better support these languages. Typotheque’s initiatives with the Nattilik, Dakelh, and Haíɫzaqv communities exemplify this effort, providing digital language tools free of charge to reduce accessibility barriers and ensure the correct typographic representation of these languages across devices.
One of the fundamental issues Indigenous language communities face is the lack of full Unicode Standard representation. If characters are missing or inaccurately rendered in Unicode, Indigenous languages cannot be reliably used across digital platforms. As noted in Typotheque’s research, even when Unicode encoding exists, the lack of accurate font rendering and glyph representation can further hinder language use. In response, Typotheque has worked with Indigenous groups to propose additions and corrections to the Unicode Standard, such as encoding 16 additional characters for the Nattilik community and revising representative glyphs for the Dakelh language. However, even after successful proposals, delays in implementation across major operating systems remain a challenge.
Beyond Unicode encoding, local typographic preferences also play a crucial role in Indigenous language support. The standardized glyph representations provided by Unicode do not always align with the visual preferences of specific language communities. This discrepancy can affect readability and theral integrity of the written language.
Typotheque addresses this issue by developing fonts that reflect the typographic preferences of communities such as the Nattilik, Dakelh, and Haíɫzaqv while maintaining technical compatibility with digital platforms. Their funding model, which reinvests revenue from font licensing and custom type development into Indigenous language support, ensures sustainable collaboration.
The urgency of this work is underscored by the ongoing decline in Indigenous language speakers, as reported in Canada’s 2021 Census. However, the increase in new learners documented by the First Peoples’ Cultural Council suggests that with the right digital tools, language revitalization can thrive. While some revitalization efforts have yielded an increase in new learners, the long-term success of these programs depends on how seamlessly Indigenous languages can be integrated into daily digital communication. The ability to text, email, and interact online in one’s native language is vital for language transmission and community cohesion. Without proper digital infrastructure, Indigenous languages remain marginalized in an increasingly digital world. As emphasized in King’s lecture, the technical and typographic challenges Indigenous communities face are not insurmountable but require dedicated collaboration between type designers, linguistic experts, and Indigenous language keepers. By addressing Unicode gaps, refining font development, and ensuring the availability of accessible digital tools, these efforts contribute to a broader movement of language sovereignty and revitalization. Strengthening Indigenous language support in digital spaces is not just a matter of technical precision but a crucial step toward cultural preservation and self-determination for Indigenous communities across North America.Lakota Letterforms, designed by Bobby Joe Smith III, explores an alternative writing system rooted in Lakota visual traditions. While standard orthography has been developed for the Lakota language, Smith wondered what a script reflecting Indigenous aesthetics might look like. Drawing from traditional quill and beadwork patterns, he designed a font that, unlike European typefaces, does not mimic pen strokes but instead echoes the forms created by Lakota artistic tools. Rather than focusing on individual letters, he experimented with compositions that highlight the visual language of the typeface as a whole. To further connect the design to Lakota material culture, he used a digital embroidery machine to stitch the glyphs onto coarse fabric, bringing them closer to the textures and techniques of traditional quill and beadwork. The Cherokee language, also known as Tsalagi Gawonihisdi (ᏣᎳᎩ ᎦᏬᏂᎯᏍᏗ), is an endangered Iroquoian language spoken by the Cherokee people. The Cherokee syllabary is a writing system invented by Sequoyah that uses 85 symbols to represent the syllables of the Cherokee language. The syllabary was created to enable written communication in the Cherokee language, which previously had no written form. The Cherokee syllabary played a crucial role in preserving Cherokee culture and language, enabling literacy and printing, and leading to the creation of the Cherokee Phoenix, the first bilingual newspaper in the United States and the first Native American newspaper.Chris Skillern is a type designer, musician, casual cartoonist, husband, and father based in Tulsa, Oklahoma. With a passion for expressive letterforms and a meticulous attention to detail, Chris approaches type design with both craft and character. A citizen of the Cherokee Nation, he is deeply engaged in projects that honor and preserve Indigenous language, including an ongoing Cherokee typeface design collaboration with Dutch type foundry Typotheque. Alongside this, he is building his own foundry, Tulsey Type, guided by his belief that “everyone deserves display type.” I had the opportunity to speak with Chris about his path into type design, the role of cultural identity in his work, and his vision for the future of Tulsey Type. Chokecherry is a vibrant sans-serif typeface by Chris Skillern for Tulsey Type, designed to support both Latin and Cherokee scripts. Drawing inspiration from handwriting and sign painting, its forms are shaped by organic writing rhythms, complete with spontaneous loops and leaf-like counters born from flicks of the wrist. With a bold personality, oversized x-height, and subtly quirky letterforms, Chokecherry is made for expressive display use in logos, headlines, and packaging. The initial release includes two styles, Bold and Inline, that can be used individually or layered together. This is Tulsey Type’s first step in addressing the lack of display type that supports the Cherokee syllabary. Meli (pronounced may-lee) is a whimsical and versatile type family designed by Chris Skillern for Tulsey Type, inspired by his daughter and born from playful flat brush experimentation. Created with children’s books in mind, Meli features three complementary styles: a lively, brush-influenced pseudo-sans display, a warm and approachable serif text face, and a text italic. Each style is crafted to work both independently and in harmony, allowing for expressive and dynamic storytelling. Meli is a multi-script family that supports both the Latin alphabet and the Cherokee syllabary, blending charm with cultural inclusivity.To see more of Chris Skillern’s work, be sure to explore his typefaces, designed for both Cherokee and Latin scripts, which reflect his dedication to expressive, inclusive typography. His designs are a testament to the power of type as both a visual language and a cultural tool. You can follow his ongoing projects and releases through Tulsey Type and his collaborations with foundries like Typotheque.
Paul Soulellis’ exploration of queer typography and design sheds light on the ways in which queerness can disrupt established norms in graphic design, providing a new lens through which to view both visual communication and cultural representation. Soulellis asserts that there is a profound need for more robust, serious discussions around queerness in design, discussions that challenge the dominant paradigms of graphic design shaped by white supremacy, heteropatriarchy, and capitalism. At the heart of his digital essay, “Whatisqueertypography?” is the question of how queerness operates within the field of design, both in historical and contemporary contexts.
Soulellis’ journey into queer typography began with a personal exploration of how non-normative methodologies could be applied to design practices, eventually leading to the creation of his influential zine, which has since been disseminated widely. For Soulellis, queerness is not simply about aesthetic choices but is a reflection of radical, outsider status. In the past, marginalized groups, particularly in the context of LGBTQ+ liberation struggles, have used design as a tool for subversion, often working with limited resources to create powerful expressions of identity, solidarity, and protest. This is seen in the DIY publications, zines, and newsletters that emerged from movements such as the gay and lesbian liberation front, punk culture, and anti-war activism.
What distinguishes queer typography from mainstream design is its rejection of perfection and its embrace of the imperfect, the “scrappy,” and the urgent. Queer acts of reading and writing defy conventional design logic and often prioritize expression over legibility. As Soulellis highlights, these non-traditional design practices, including the use of hand lettering, illustration, and collage, became tools for marginalized communities to organize, communicate, and resist hegemonic structures. These radical publications were not just about aesthetic choices but were about survival and creating networks of care within communities that were often excluded from dominant cultural and political spaces.
In addition to these historical acts of queer design, Soulellis also draws attention to the way that contemporary queer designers and communities continue to challenge normative approaches to typography. The discussion of “queer typography” thus expands beyond formal typographic design to encompass practices of reading and writing that disrupt the binary and normative standards of the field. Queer typography, as Soulellis suggests, is not about creating a distinct aesthetic or visual language but about recognizing the queer acts embedded in design practices, the gestures that subvert expectations and embrace the possibility of multiple interpretations and meanings. For instance, the typographic treatment of names and titles in the 1993 film Queen of the Underground exemplifies the kind of queer act Soulellis describes. The title sequence, where Octavia St. Laurent’s name is rendered in a playful, non-traditional mix of upper and lowercase letters, challenges the conventional rules of typography. This act of typographic rebellion, sometimes described as “leet” speak, embodies the queerness of language as a tool for subversion, as a way of encoding meaning for a specific, often marginalized, audience. The use of “leet” typographic language, once a way for hackers to encode their communication, mirrors the way queer communities have historically used language and visual culture to create spaces of belonging and resistance.
In Soulellis’ own work, queerness is deeply intertwined with identity, politics, and community. He emphasizes that queerness is not solely a personal identity but a political act of resistance against the dominant forces that shape design and culture. By exploring the concept of queer typography, Soulellis invites us to reconsider what we think we know about design, legibility, and the power dynamics inherent in the way we communicate visually. Queer typography is not about creating a fixed set of design principles but about embracing flexibility, ambiguity, and fluidity, values that mirror the very nature of queerness itself.
Ultimately, the work of Paul Soulellis and other queer designers challenges us to expand our understanding of graphic design, to question the assumptions that have shaped the field, and to create space for new stories and identities. Queer typography, like queer identity, is a continuously evolving practice, one that resists easy categorization and instead revels in the potential for radical reimaginings of what design can be. Adam Naccarato is a multidisciplinary design director specializing in brand identity, typography, and graphic design. As a senior designer, he brings expertise in art direction and type design. He is the creator of Queering, one of the primary typefaces used throughout this book, reflecting his commitment to meaningful and accessible typography that highlights the history of the LGBTQ+ community.
Queering is a bold and expressive typeface designed by independent designer Adam Naccarato, originally launched in 2022 to celebrate the legacy of queer activism through typography. Now, with Queering 2.0, the typeface has been reimagined with expanded inclusivity, featuring three new weights, Latin Extended and Cyrillic support, and a growing library of glyphs. This update continues the conversation sparked by the original release, pushing LGBTQIA+ design to the forefront at a time when anti-trans legislation and bans on drag performances are escalating across the US.
At its core, Queering evolves alongside LGBTQIA+ language and culture, reinforcing typography’s role in advocacy and representation. Naccarato emphasizes the significance of design in amplifying voices and fostering queer joy, ensuring this update feels hopeful and empowering. As with the original release, Queering remains open source and pay- what-you-feel, with all proceeds supporting the Ali Forney Center, a New York-based nonprofit dedicated to housing LGBTQIA+ youth.
Design is an ever-evolving discipline that requires continuous reevaluation and adaptation to meet the needs of diverse audiences. When designers approach their work from a singular, privileged perspective, they risk reinforcing systemic biases and excluding marginalized voices. The urgency of inclusive and equitable design has never been greater, particularly in an era where digital spaces are integral to daily life. Forest Young, the Global Chief Creative Officer at Wolff Olins and a Senior Critic in Graphic Design at the Yale School of Art, is one of the designers featured in this study for his contributions to fostering inclusive design futures. Young emphasizes the necessity of pluralistic perspectives in shaping the design industry, advocating for methods that illuminate both historical omissions and future possibilities. His work interrogates how design functions as both a tool of empowerment and exclusion, and how digital design spaces can either reinforce or dismantle colonial narratives.
One of the most profound examples of entrenched design patterns is the QWERTY keyboard. Initially developed for typewriters in the 19th century, its layout was designed to reduce jamming rather than optimize efficiency. Despite technological advancements, the QWERTY layout persists, shaping the way billions of people interact with digital text. More critically, it exemplifies how dominant design patterns can be entrenched and resistant to change, even when they no longer serve contemporary needs. Beyond inefficiency, dominant design patterns can also reinforce cultural and linguistic biases. Digital typography and text input systems have historically prioritized Latin scripts, often neglecting non-Latin languages that require more complex character sets. Many Indigenous and non-Western scripts remain unsupported or improperly rendered in digital spaces, limiting linguistic accessibility and digital representation. This exclusion not only diminishes the visibility of these languages but also threatens their longevity, as modern communication increasingly relies on digital tools.
Young and other designers advocating for decolonized design practices argue that inclusivity must be a foundational principle rather than an afterthought. To create truly accessible typographic spaces, designers must question who their tools are built for and who is left out. Addressing these disparities requires rethinking digital infrastructure, expanding Unicode character support, and developing adaptable typographic systems that serve all language communities equitably.
By challenging entrenched design norms, Forest Young’s work pushes the boundaries of what design can achieve in fostering cultural equity. His approach exemplifies the responsibility of contemporary designers to interrogate their practices, ensuring that design is not only innovative but also just and inclusive. As the digital landscape continues to evolve, the imperative to design with fresh perspectives remains central to creating a more equitable future. Dr. Cheryl D. Miller is a designer, author, and civil rights activist whose work has been instrumental in challenging the marginalization of BIPOC designers in the graphic design industry. Founder of the former Cheryl D. Miller Design, Inc., she has led social impact design initiatives and written extensively for PRINT and CommunicationArtsmagazines. A trailblazer in diversity, equity, and inclusion, her legacy includes the Cheryl D. Miller Collection at Stanford University, which archives her work in corporate communications and Black graphic design history. An AIGA Medalist and Cooper Hewitt “Design Visionary” awardee, she holds multiple honorary doctorates and teaches as a professor of DEI in Communication Design at ArtCenter College of Design, as well as a Distinguished Senior Lecturer at the University of Texas–Austin. Through her research, writing, and teaching, Miller continues to decolonize and reshape the field of graphic design. Dr. Cheryl D. Miller, an influential voice in the graphic design community, has long advocated for diversity and inclusion within the industry. Her seminal article, “Black Designers: Missing in Action,” published nearly three decades ago, is a powerful critique of the lack of representation of Black designers in the industry.
At the time of writing, Miller was a young design student at Pratt Institute, and her head of program encouraged her to contribute to the design field in a way that would elevate the conversation. Her thesis, which would eventually become her landmark article in Print magazine, illuminated the underrepresentation and marginalization of Black designers, sparking an industry-wide discussion about diversity and inclusion that is still relevant today.
Miller’s article highlighted the dual problem of both the industry’s unawareness of Black designers and the systemic barriers that caused their exclusion. She argued that Black designers were not “missing” in the industry but rather were “missing from view.” By challenging this lack of visibility, Miller created space for the conversation to evolve, which led to more articles, conferences, and a stronger push for diverse voices in design. Her reflections on the industry’s evolution emphasize that the absence of Black designers was not only a social issue but also a missed opportunity for the design market. Today, with a more global and diverse marketplace, this message holds even more weight.
Despite progress since 1987, Miller notes that Black designers still face significant challenges regarding visibility and recognition. She reflects on her journey as a designer and the slow, but ongoing, demand for more equitable representation. In 1987, the design industry was dominated by a narrow, exclusionary narrative, and Miller’s article was a rallying cry for change. As she recalls, the conversation around diversity in the design community began to take root, but it wasn’t until years later that the need for real, structural changes gained momentum. The global shift toward inclusion, reflecting a more diverse, multiracial society, has become central to the design conversation.
Miller’s ongoing advocacy underscores the necessity for more diverse voices in the creative process, especially as the design world becomes increasingly globalized. The 21st-century designer is no longer confined to a black-and-white, Eurocentric worldview. Today, designers must consider a spectrum of cultures, traditions, and ethnicities. For Black designers, their ability to bring nuanced perspectives to the design process is an invaluable asset. It’s not only about creating more inclusive content but about enriching the design language itself with diverse viewpoints that resonate across cultures and backgrounds.
One inspiring example of this shift is Akilah Johnson, the first African American winner of the Doodle 4 Google competition. Akilah’s design, “My Afrocentric Life,” was selected from over 100,000 student entries, demonstrating the power of diverse perspectives in design. Miller, who had once dreamed of this kind of recognition, celebrated Johnson’s achievement as a significant step toward changing how Black designers are perceived and valued in the wider creative community.
Miller’s call to action is clear: The design industry must fully embrace diversity, not only as a matter of fairness but as a necessary evolution for the future of design. As the U.S. Census projections indicate, racial minority groups will make up the majority of the population by 2042, further underscoring the need for an inclusive design practice that mirrors these demographic changes. Miller’s reflections remind us that diverse designers have always been an integral part of the industry, and their contributions must be recognized as vital to the creative ecosystem.
For students, designers, and practitioners of today, embracing and amplifying Black designers’ voices is no longer a choice but a necessity. Not doing so is a missed opportunity, not just for the design community but for the world at large. Miller’s work has paved the way for a more inclusive and dynamic design landscape, and as the industry continues to evolve, it is crucial that these contributions continue to be celebrated, supported, and integrated into the broader design narrative. Typography is more than a tool for communication, it is a reflection of history, culture, and power. The dominance of Latin-based typographic systems in digital spaces has systematically marginalized non-Latin scripts and Indigenous languages, reinforcing colonial legacies in design and limiting linguistic diversity online. To challenge these structures, it is imperative to decolonize type by redefining typographic systems, broadening digital accessibility, and ensuring that communities have agency over how their languages are represented in modern communication.Laura Rossi García, in “Towards a Typographic Pluriverse,” argues that letterforms are “loaded cultural objects” and “an extension of the spiritual, social, political, and historic mind-set of nations.” Typography not only shapes visual language but also carries embedded histories of exclusion. The act of designing typefaces, therefore, is not neutral; it either perpetuates dominant power structures or disrupts them by making room for marginalized voices. As the digital age continues to shape global communication, designers must critically assess who has access to typographic tools and how type design can serve underrepresented languages rather than erase them. Decolonizing type requires a fundamental shift in how designers approach their craft. It is not just about technical execution, but about designing with purpose, with the community in mind, and with an awareness of historical and political contexts. Accessibility is at the core of this shift, ensuring that Indigenous and non-Latin scripts are not just supported, but fully integrated into digital systems. This necessitates collaboration between designers, linguists, and technologists to refine Unicode standards, develop fonts that honor cultural integrity, and build platforms that enable linguistic equity.
The work of Vanessa Zúñiga Tinizaray, also known as Amuki, a Quechua word meaning “inner silence,” exemplifies this intersection of design, tradition, and resistance. As an Ecuadorian designer, she is dedicated to exploring and honoring the visual languages of ancestral Latin American cultures. Her practice at Amuki Studios bridges Indigenous knowledge with contemporary design methods, serving as a form of cultural preservation and reinterpretation. Through projects that celebrate Indigenous heritage with pride and awareness, Zúñiga Tinizaray reclaims design as a tool for storytelling and empowerment.
In collaboration with Maxence Duterne’s Physarum Type, her project Amuki Studios × Physarum Type explores the intersection of ancestral aesthetics and organic generative processes. By combining the foundational AQKA-000 font with the growth patterns of Physarum mold, the resulting typefaces take on a fluid, branching, and biologically inspired letterforms that feel alive and ever-evolving. These experimental alphabets blur the boundaries between nature and technology, reflecting not only the living traditions of Latin American culture but also a radically reimagined future for type design, one rooted in process, plurality, and poetic disruption.
Tré Seals is a designer and founder of Vocal Type, a font foundry dedicated to amplifying underrepresented voices through typography. A two-time brain tumor survivor, Seals found solace and purpose in art, exploring disciplines beyond traditional design, including calligraphy, literature, and speechwriting. Deeply connected to history, he lives and works on land established by his great- great-grandparents in 1908, where his office once served as a stable. His work blends art and history with criticality and love, creating typefaces that tell stories and challenge conventions, bridging the past and present through design.
Tré Seals’ work with Vocal Type also underscores typography as a radical act of reclamation. In “Typography as a Radical Act in an Industry Ever-dominated by White Men,” Silas Munro highlights Seals’ mission to amplify untold narratives through typefaces rooted in protest and resistance. Like Zúñiga Tinizaray, Seals reminds us that type design is never apolitical, it is a vessel for either reinforcing exclusion or opening up space for marginalized voices to be seen, heard, and remembered.
Bayard, designed by Tré Seals for Vocal Type Foundry, is a sans-serif typeface inspired by protest signs from the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. Named after Bayard Rustin, a key strategist of the Civil Rights Movement and a close advisor to Martin Luther King Jr., the typeface honors his legacy as an organizer and advocate for nonviolence, social justice, and LGBTQ+ rights. Just as Rustin played a pivotal role in shaping the movement, Bayard’s design captures the power and urgency of protest typography, serving as a visual tribute to activism and collective action. Reimagining digital spaces through decolonized typography means breaking away from Eurocentric defaults that have shaped design history. It means challenging the norms that dictate what is considered legible, valuable, or commercially viable. It is a call for designers to engage deeply with the communities they are designing for, ensuring that typography does not erase, but instead empowers and preserves, languages that have been systematically sidelined. By centering linguistic diversity, expanding technological accessibility, and designing with historical consciousness, typography can become a tool for decolonization rather than a mechanism of exclusion. The future of type design lies not in reinforcing outdated hierarchies, but in creating inclusive, equitable, and culturally responsive digital spaces, where all languages, scripts, and stories have the opportunity to thrive.
Credits School: Tyler School of Art and Architecture
Program: Design and Illustration
Instructor: Mia Culbertson
Designer: Sam Scherping