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Oh, hey Reader, just a heads up before you read on: there's some spicy language within. Here goes:

Have you heard of the term enshittification?

​Cory Doctorow​ coined it to describe the slow degradation of platforms that start user-friendly, then become increasingly exploitative once they've made themselves indispensable.
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Satisfying to know this has a name, isn't it??​
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The cycle goes: first they're great to attract users, then they squeeze users to attract business customers, then they squeeze business customers to maximize profit for themselves. But we stay in that place of friction because switching costs are too high or there are no real alternatives or how else are you going to reach all those people, but wait you can't reach them anymore because of the algorithm anyway, and...

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Social media feeds have become behavioural modification systems designed to keep you scrolling past the point where you meant to stop. Online communities that began as genuine gathering places now optimize for engagement over connection, turning conversation into content and members into metrics.

Social enterprises do this too, in their way. It starts small—a word here, a phrase there that sounds more "results-oriented" to funders. Maybe you swap out "help" for "impact" or "people" for "stakeholders"—psssst, more on that last term in the p.s.—because that's what sounds serious in grant applications. You tell yourself it's just being more strategic, more fundable, more likely to survive another budget cycle. But each adjustment nudges you further from how you actually talk when explaining your work to someone you care about.

This isn't just digital pollution, though it is that. There's something deeper happening when the gap between what you project and what you actually are grows too wide. That tension becomes low-grade friction that follows you everywhere.

You start adjusting, with the hope to smooth out the edges. Slapping quick fixes on an outdated site. Cutting corners because the time, money, and people just aren’t there.

Pretty soon, the brand you’re projecting looks technically fine—but it doesn’t feel like you anymore. I hear versions of this all the time: “We know our website doesn’t reflect who we are anymore, but no one on staff has the time—or frankly, the skills—to overhaul it. We’re stuck.”

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It often sounds like this:

People can sense the performance. The disconnection registers, even when they can't name it.

This is where I nerd out: how your landing page reads, whether your website reflects the conversations happening in your office. These aren't just marketing materials; they're mirrors where the gap between who you are and who you think you need to be becomes most painfully visible.

The work I do is about closing that gap. Not through slicker marketing, but through the messier process of figuring out who you are, learning about who you help, and letting that show up. Good design reflects your actual priorities, and uses language that matches how you talk when explaining your work to someone you care about.

Beware: it's more meticulous work than slapping a template on your problems. But the alternative is adding to the noise and becoming part of the enshittification—another organization that's been optimized into indistinguishability, professionally polished and fundamentally forgettable.

Want to talk about what showing up authentically might look like for you?

What I know is this: the cure for enshittification isn't better polish. It's the courage to be recognizable. Take this as your nudge to keep resisting in your own way.

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High fives, pals

Reesa
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​p.s. Given the colonial connotations of the term “stakeholder”, its use may have negative connotations for Indigenous Peoples or those seeking to build community equitably. Consider instead: partner, collaborator, supporter, community member, contributor, or interest-holder.

p.p.s. Want to learn more about Cory Doctorow? Try this and this.

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Thanks for being here!
​​Know anyone else I could help?
It would mean a whole lot if you'd forward this email along to them.

💖

About Reesa​
I work with people who give a damn—about their message, their mission, and the people they serve. With Ballyhoo, you get more than design: you get strategic partners who care about what you’re building, and who know how to help it land. 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.