On June 9, 2025, Shopify's newly appointed Chief Design Officer, Carl Rivera, announced that the company had officially dropped the titles "UX Designer" and "Content Designer." From now on, if you design, you're a "Designer." If you write, you're a "Writer."
Simple. Clean. And for many, deeply provocative.
"We just dropped UX as a title at Shopify. Same for Content Design," Rivera posted on X. "If you design, you're a Designer. If you write, you're now a Writer. Simpler. Better."
In a design industry long defined by a growing list of niche roles and acronyms, the move sparked instant and impassioned debate.
Is this a necessary simplification for the AI era? Or is it a dangerous flattening of roles that devalues expertise, clarity, and collaboration?
This is not the first time a tech company has stirred controversy by reshuffling design titles. Duolingo recently made headlines by renaming their UX and UI teams to "Product Experience Designers." Airbnb and Meta have both made similar moves over the past few years. But Shopify's decision feels different, perhaps because of how bluntly it's been communicated.
At its core, this isn't just about job titles. It's about the very identity of design in modern tech teams.
A flattening of roles
In the eyes of some, Rivera's move is a return to fundamentals: design as a unified craft."I want to get away from terms that make our craft more science than art," he wrote. "AI enables anyone to make things usable: our job is to make them unforgettable."
That’s the key argument: that baseline usability is no longer the job of the designer, it’s the job of the machine.AI tools can already generate interfaces, write UX copy, and even prototype ideas in seconds. In this new world, what matters isn’t usability, but taste.
"We hire for taste," Rivera said. "For aesthetics. For a point-of-view. It’s the difference between utility and affinity."
"So now you've got a team of 'Designers' but no clarity on who handles UX, UI, or content," wrote @dawsonbeggs in response. "Imagine applying this logic elsewhere: no criminal, civil, or family lawyers, just 'Lawyers.' Titles aren't just labels. They reflect focus, craft, and expertise."
Another designer echoed the same concern: "Does this mean every designer is now expected to do everything?"
Flattening roles might help reduce bureaucracy, but it also blurs ownership.
When everyone is a designer, who does the research? Who owns the content? Who defines the interaction logic?
This ambiguity could hit junior and mid-level designers the hardest. Without clear role boundaries, these designers may struggle to understand what’s expected of them, or how to grow in their careers.
"The true meaning of Product Design starts side by side with product management," argued @OnutAdrian. "The whole aspect of product strategy and business that UX simply does not do. So the way I see it, it makes sense to have Product Designer, Product Researcher and Designer."
And yet, the other side of the debate remains strong. For many, UX/UI/content splits have always been artificial. One commenter pointed out: "These labels got introduced to bring perhaps clarity, but instead created silos, brought uncertainty around skillset, and created hiring bloat."
In that light, Shopify’s decision looks like a correction, not a collapse.
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AI has sped everything up, including this shift in design. Generative tools can now handle clean layouts, smooth flows, even decent copy. That stuff’s no longer the differentiator.
What’s left? Craft. Judgment. Intuition.
The best designers trust their gut not because they ignore data, but because they’ve been right enough times to know when something just works. They spot patterns others miss. They know when to follow the rules and when to break them.
They don’t sound like influencers. They sound like prophets. And they often know how to build, too.
Design has been compressing for years. What used to be separate jobs: IA, UX, UI, prototyping, now sits with one person. Tools got better. Work got faster. And suddenly, the best designers could hold the whole story from vision to execution.
Good UX is expected. Taste is what sets you apart.
But here’s where the critics push back.
Shifting design toward “art” and away from “science” is seductive especially now, when AI can churn out “good enough” solutions. But not everyone believes this shift is safe. Or equitable.
What happens to accessibility when aesthetic taste overrides usability heuristics?
What happens to inclusive design when intuition replaces evidence?
What happens to content when writing is divorced from the strategy that gives it meaning?
There’s a growing concern that we’re romanticizing taste and sacrificing function.
It’s not just about trusting your gut. It’s about depth. As one designer put it: sure, medicine is medicine but an oncologist, a pediatrician, and a gynecologist don’t do the same job. It’s not about the label. It’s about the expertise.
Capitalism in disguise?
There’s also a more cynical read: that this flattening isn’t about creativity or simplification. It’s about doing more with less.
"It’s literally a way to say, 'hey, now you have to do double work, but we will not pay you more.' Capitalism. 🤡 " wrote one designer.
When roles are compressed, expectations often balloon. Without explicit titles or scopes, the burden falls on designers to wear multiple hats: researcher, writer, strategist, visual artist, prototyper, and sometimes even front-end developer.
And in a time of budget cuts and hiring freezes, fewer titles may simply mean fewer head counts.
It’s hard to trust that this shift is about “empowerment” when most of us have trust issues with corporate leadership anyway.
An identity crisis?
So what does it actually mean to be a designer today? That question has never been harder to answer.
Rivera and others argue that it's time to retire our attachment to rigid definitions. In an age of automation, the unique value of human designers isn’t checklists and deliverables. It’s creativity. Taste. A point of view.
It’s a compelling vision but also a risky one. Not every team, project, or product can afford to prioritize "unforgettable" over "usable."
Not every designer wants to be an artist. Some just want to solve problems.
Where do we go from here?
Where do we go from here?
Shopify’s move has sparked a much-needed reckoning in design; not just about titles, but about identity, value, and direction. Some see it as creative freedom, others as corporate cost-cutting dressed up as innovation.
My two cents:
Design is in flux. AI is redrawing the boundaries, and companies are reacting with layoffs, restructures, and rebrands.
But titles still matter. Not to inflate egos, but to create clarity.
They set expectations, define roles, and support collaboration. Erasing them risks erasing the very structure that helps teams function and users stay centered.
The real challenge ahead isn’t just semantic; it’s philosophical. Designers need to stop clutching tightly to titles and start sharpening their intuition. Instead of chasing functional output, the job now is to create something that moves people. The ones who understand this shift aren’t anxious about the future—they’re already shaping it.
This shift might work for Shopify. That doesn’t mean it works for everyone. As we push forward, the question isn’t just what we call ourselves; it’s whether we’re still designing with purpose or just surviving the system.
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