Structure often gets a bad reputation, especially in creative environments. I’ve heard it framed as restrictive, too corporate, even as something that kills spontaneity. And I’ll be honest: in the early stages of my design career, I absorbed some of that thinking. I believed that real creativity came from openness, flexibility, and just trusting the process.
But experience taught me otherwise. As I began to collaborate more deeply across teams — especially in high-stakes environments — I started to see how structure wasn’t a barrier to creativity, it was what actually protected it. I saw how clarity, rhythm, and well-placed boundaries made it safer to experiment, to disagree, and to contribute fully.
Over time, I also noticed a pattern: when I tried to introduce structure, it was sometimes met with resistance, not because the process was wrong, but because it challenged comfort, or came from someone who wasn’t expected to lead that way. As a woman in design, I saw how structure introduced by someone like me could be misunderstood. Not as supportive or thoughtful, but as "cold" or "controlling". And yet, when that same structure came from someone else it landed differently.
Clarity, when done with care, is one of the most respectful things we can offer a team. It’s not about control. It’s about making collaboration easier for everyone. It’s about reducing the emotional and cognitive weight of figuring things out in the dark. And it’s a form of leadership that’s deeply human, even if it’s not always read that way.
In the 1970s, feminist activist Jo Freeman warned of the "tyranny of structurelessness". In her essay, Freeman observed that groups with no formal structure don’t truly stay structureless – instead, the void is filled by hidden cliques and unspoken rules. The ideal of total freedom can become a "smokescreen for the strong or the lucky to establish unquestioned hegemony" while everyone else "remain(s) in confusion". In other words, a lack of clear structure often hides power rather than eliminating it. Decades later, many creative and tech teams still grapple with this truth. Too often, "structure" and process are dismissed as bureaucratic or "cold", especially when proposed by women or other underrepresented voices. But what if structure, clarity, and intentional collaboration are not constraints on creativity, but rather acts of respect?
The myth of "Natural Flow"
One of the biggest illusions I’ve seen in teams is the idea that if we hire smart, kind people, collaboration will take care of itself. I’ve been in environments where people believed that adding too much structure would get in the way, that too many rituals or roles would make things feel less human. The assumption was: if we’re all aligned on the goal, things will just flow.
But they rarely did.
What I observed instead was something more complicated. Without structure, collaboration didn’t become more organic, it became fragile. People filled the gaps with assumptions. Ownership blurred. Decisions dragged or got made in backchannels. Conflict went unspoken. And often, the people who were already the most comfortable or well-positioned — socially, verbally, hierarchically — ended up leading by default. Not because they were chosen to, but because no one had made the rules of engagement clear enough to prevent that dynamic.
And that kind of dynamic doesn’t play out equally. I noticed that those of us who were more reflective, or who didn’t carry natural authority in the room — often women, and often underrepresented folks — had to work harder just to get heard. We were also more likely to take on the invisible labor of keeping things running: checking in with people one-on-one, clarifying misunderstandings, smoothing over emotional tension, organizing what wasn’t being organized. In theory, we were a flat team. But in practice, there was always someone quietly holding it together.
I used to think stepping into that role was a strength, and in some ways, it was. But it was also draining. And it masked the fact that what we lacked wasn’t motivation or goodwill. It was a shared sense of how we work. Eventually, I realized that good collaboration isn’t something that magically appears when the right people meet. It’s something we have to design. And avoiding structure — in the name of being "nice" or "free" — doesn’t lead to harmony. It just makes the unspoken rules harder to navigate, and harder to challenge.
The hidden costs of chaos
Unstructured collaboration often carries an invisible price tag: the emotional and cognitive labor that falls disproportionately on certain team members. When roles are ambiguous and processes undefined, someone has to pick up the slack to prevent total chaos. In many cases, that "someone" is an underrepresented person who feels the pressure to quietly manage dynamics and fill gaps. This kind of work – facilitating discussions, taking notes, scheduling meetings, mediating conflicts – is essential to the team but too often goes unrecognized. It’s a form of invisible work, and it frequently (and unfairly) burdens women and people of color on a team.
Over time, this imbalance leads to frustration and burnout. Underrepresented team members carry extra cognitive load by constantly navigating unclear situations: What did we decide? Who’s responsible for this task? Should I step in (again) to coordinate? The mental energy spent just figuring out the unwritten rules or picking up slack is energy not spent on creative or strategic work. It’s draining. A Women in Tech advocacy site in Sweden recently highlighted how "invisible work is a challenge that particularly affects women, who often fall into the trap of unpaid and invisible responsibilities both at work and at home". This unrecognized labor creates imbalances in career opportunities and quality of life (Women in Tech - Make Equal - Invisible work).
Worse, when women or marginalized individuals perform this glue work, it’s not always met with gratitude. Sometimes it’s barely noticed; other times it’s even held against them. The inclusion consultancy Co-Creating Inclusion points out that when people of color or women go above and beyond to keep an organization running (often out of sheer commitment), that extra effort can be dismissed or even "weaponized against those doing it". Their contributions are "Dismissed, devalued… Uncredited" and they may be unfairly seen as overstepping or self-interested for trying to help (Co-Creating Inclusion - Invisible work). In short, lack of structure doesn’t mean no one is doing the work – it usually means someone is doing a lot of extra work in the shadows, and that someone is often the person already sidelined in other ways.
By contrast, introducing structure is an act of fairness. Clear processes (agendas, defined roles like facilitator or note-taker rotating, documented decisions) distribute the collaboration load more equitably. No one should have to play atlas and hold the team’s world on their shoulders just because "we don’t believe in formal process here". When a team establishes respectful norms – for example, who will lead this project, how we’ll communicate updates, what the decision-making method is – it lightens the cognitive load on everyone. This isn’t theory; it’s well documented that lack of role clarity creates stress and conflict, whereas defined responsibilities improve team outcomes (EightShapes - Dan Brown article), Structure, done right, prevents burnout by ensuring the work of collaboration itself (the emails, the coordination, the meeting prep) is shared and appreciated, not invisibly carried by a few.
Clarity reduces load
Structure is not something you add once things get complicated — a necessary evil you turn to only when a team starts to spiral. Clarity isn’t a response to dysfunction. It’s a way to prevent it.
The more I worked across teams and functions, the more I saw how much energy people spent just trying to figure out the basics: Who’s driving this? Is it okay if I speak up here? Are we deciding now or just exploring? What’s the actual goal?
Even when everyone wanted to do their best, the lack of clarity created hesitation. It slowed things down. It made people anxious about stepping on toes or wasting time. And that anxiety didn’t distribute equally — I saw it weigh more on people who were newer, quieter, or less protected by their role. Some teammates would forge ahead without thinking twice. Others would hold back entirely, unsure of how to enter the conversation.
When we started introducing more clarity — a shared doc with clear responsibilities, a simple decision framework, a question at the top of the meeting agenda — I noticed something shift. People relaxed. We didn’t need to make everything rigid or over-defined. But even the smallest signals helped people contribute with more confidence.
Clarity doesn’t shut people down. It frees them up. It removes the need to read between the lines, or decode a colleague’s mood, or overthink how to give input. It reduces the invisible labor we carry — especially those of us who’ve been conditioned to second-guess ourselves, or manage tone, or soften our presence so others feel comfortable. That’s the part of structure that rarely gets talked about: it lightens the emotional and cognitive load. It lets us show up fully, not by being perfect, but by knowing what’s expected and what the boundaries are.
I’ve found that when people feel safe in the structure, they’re more generous, more creative, and more collaborative. And that kind of clarity isn’t cold. It’s one of the warmest things a team can offer each other.
Why structure gets misread
The first time I tried to bring more structure into a team — a clear decision process, a shared backlog, a bit more rhythm to our rituals — I was met with polite resistance. People smiled, nodded, and then... Kept doing things the way they always had. It wasn’t overt. But I noticed that the same suggestions landed differently when voiced by someone else. Especially if that someone was a man. Especially if he didn’t have to preface things with, "This might sound obvious, but..." or "I just thought it could help…".
That was the moment I started realizing that structure itself isn’t the issue — it’s who’s bringing it in.
When a woman — especially one who’s newer, younger, or from an underrepresented background — introduces structure, it’s more likely to be read as rigid, unnecessary, or even overstepping. I’ve felt it. I’ve seen it happen to others. And I’ve felt the pressure to deliver clarity while still being soft enough, smiley enough, non-threatening enough to avoid being labeled "controlling".
It’s a tension that’s hard to name without sounding defensive. But it’s real.
There were moments I asked myself: Would this suggestion be received better if it came from someone else? And often, the honest answer was yes. That’s not just frustrating, it’s costly. Because when we start doubting how our leadership will be received, we hold back. Or we compensate. We soften our tone, take the long way around, or do the invisible work of building consensus before daring to speak up.
Meanwhile, others — often with more perceived authority — can make the same moves and be praised for being decisive.
So yes, structure gets misread. But not because it’s inherently harsh. It gets misread when the person bringing it doesn’t match the unconscious expectations of "who leads" or "who organizes". And those expectations are shaped by more than just experience or skill. They’re shaped by gender, by race, by tone, by personality, by all the subtle dynamics that live inside a team.
And yet, I still choose to bring structure. Not to prove a point, but because I care. Because I’ve learned that it’s not just about being understood, it’s about making collaboration work for more than just the loudest or most confident. And I’ll take the slower road to that clarity, if it means others won’t have to.
When and how to introduce structure
Structure doesn’t need to be heavy-handed to be effective. In fact, the most impactful structures are often light, flexible, and just enough to give people direction without taking away their autonomy.
That’s why it’s not about adding structure everywhere. It’s about recognizing the moments when it becomes a kindness — a way of protecting time, reducing friction, or creating shared understanding. And when it’s introduced with the right intent, structure isn’t a form of control. It becomes a support system for clarity, focus, and collaboration.
In ambiguity, to frame decisions
When things feel foggy — whether it’s around goals, ownership, or next steps — structure can help anchor a team without shutting things down. That doesn’t mean rushing into solutions. It means offering a shape to the conversation: What problem are we solving? What constraints matter? What do we need to decide now, and what can wait?
Even something as simple as writing down the key questions we’re trying to answer can shift the energy in the room. It tells people: you don’t have to figure this out alone — we’re thinking through it together. And that invitation matters more than we think, especially in teams where some people have more permission to speak up than others.
When clarity shows up in moments of ambiguity, it becomes a way to move forward without rushing. It creates safety by framing the unknown.
In tension, to protect neutrality
When tension surfaces — especially interpersonal or cross-functional — the instinct is often to smooth it over quickly, or avoid it altogether. But healthy teams don’t avoid tension; they design safer ways to move through it.
This is where structure can step in as a neutralizer. A bit of intentional framing can keep conversations from turning into power plays, or silence. That might look like introducing ground rules for a retro, suggesting time-boxed turns in a heated discussion, or aligning upfront on how decisions will be made before disagreement happens.
Structure in these moments doesn’t mean making everything formal. It means offering a shared protocol that protects fairness — especially when dynamics get complicated. It gives people a language for feedback that doesn’t require personal confrontation, and makes it easier to speak up without fear of being labeled "difficult", "emotional", or "abrasive".
This matters even more when the tension involves someone who usually holds the floor, or someone who’s used to being deferred to. Without neutral structure, people from less dominant positions are often left to carry the emotional labor of managing someone else’s discomfort, just to be heard. That’s not a collaboration — that’s survival.
When teams agree to structure the way they hold space for disagreement, it sends a clear signal: We’re not here to win. We’re here to understand each other. That shift in tone creates the conditions for trust to be rebuilt, rather than lost.
In repetition, to reduce cognitive load
When something happens often — onboarding, reviews, handoffs, feedback cycles — it’s worth designing for repeatability. Not because teams can’t figure it out each time, but because figuring it out each time is draining.
In creative environments, we tend to romanticize novelty. But predictability is underrated. It gives our brains space to focus on what actually needs our attention, rather than wasting energy on the logistics of how to participate.
That’s where structure becomes an act of respect. A simple framework for design critiques, a shared doc for capturing decisions, or a rotating note-taker in a recurring meeting — none of these are glamorous. But they create a shared rhythm. They give people a sense of how things work here. And that consistency helps remove friction for those who otherwise feel like they’re constantly adapting or guessing.
What often goes unsaid is that structure doesn’t just protect time, it protects dignity. It ensures that participation doesn’t depend on social fluency, proximity to leadership, or knowing who to DM. When repetition is structured well, it frees up space for people to contribute fully, not just follow along.
It’s a small shift with big impact: from "who’s supposed to…?" to "this is how we do it". And in teams where not everyone starts on equal footing, that shift is everything.
In delivery, to anchor accountability
As work moves closer to the finish line, the stakes often get higher, and so do the chances of things slipping through the cracks. Last-minute pivots, shifting expectations, blurred roles… They all creep in unless we get intentional about how we land together.
That’s where structure plays a quiet but necessary role in protecting accountability without policing. Not by turning everything into a checklist, but by making responsibility visible: who’s leading what, how progress is being tracked, and where decisions are recorded. When those things aren’t clear, teams fall back on assumption and trust alone — and trust, while essential, is not a substitute for clarity. It’s not enough to "hope people know what they’re responsible for". Hope is not a handover plan.
What I’ve seen is that accountability lands better when it’s framed as alignment, not blame. It’s about giving each person a sense of ownership, and the confidence that they’re not alone in carrying it. That confidence lets people move faster and with more ease, they don’t have to hedge every update or over explain their progress.
And here’s the nuance I’ve learned to hold: structure in delivery doesn’t mean more check-ins or more meetings. Sometimes it’s just one clear update, or one shared view of what’s done and what’s next. But when it’s done well, it sends a message: We’re in this together, and we’re keeping our side of the work visible. That visibility builds trust — not just in each other, but in the process we’re working through.
Design is not just what we make, it’s how we move together
I used to think my job was mostly about the product and the users — the flows, the visuals, the outcomes people see, how people receive it, how successful it is. But over time, I’ve come to understand something deeper: how we work is part of what we design. And the structures we co-create as teams — our rituals, our ways of deciding, even how we disagree — shape just as much as any interface.
That realization shifted the way I show up. I stopped seeing structure as something that gets in the way of collaboration and started seeing it as something that protects it. Designing for clarity is how we make space for more voices, not fewer. It’s how we make sure people don’t burn out trying to read invisible rules, it’s how we build the trust that allows real feedback to surface, not just the polite kind.
And yes, it’s also how I’ve learned to protect myself, not by withdrawing, but by being intentional. Because working "nicely" without structure often leads to imbalance, where the most collaborative people carry the heaviest load. That’s not sustainable. That’s not kind.
So now, I collaborate with intention. I care deeply. I stay engaged. But I also choose the conditions under which that care is protected, for me, and for others. Because collaboration isn’t just being open. It’s creating clarity where openness is safe. Clarity, to me, is a form of respect. And structure, when done with care, is a quiet way of saying: I want this to work for all of us. That’s not cold. That’s the warmest kind of leadership I know.
Recommended reading
- Lara Hogan – Resilient Management (2019): A handbook for tech leaders on supporting teams. Hogan, an engineering leader, advocates for clarity in expectations (the "gift of clarity") and building processes that create safety.
- Jo Freeman – "The Tyranny of Structurelessness" (1970): Classic essay from the women’s liberation movement illustrating why the absence of structure can be oppressive. Makes the case that explicit structure is needed for true equal participation.
- Lean In – "How to Get the Most Out of Meetings" (LeanIn.org, 2015): An article addressing office dynamics; notably discusses how women are interrupted more and often saddled with "office housework" task. Offers tips for equitable collaboration.
- Dayana Derucka – When Saying "No" Isn’t Equal: How Boundaries Are Respected (or Not) Based on Gender (2024): A contemporary essay on how men and women setting boundaries at work receive different reactions. Sheds light on the double standards around assertiveness.
- Google re:Work – "Guide: Understand Team Effectiveness (Project Aristotle)" (2017): Summary of Google’s research on effective teams, highlighting Structure and Clarity as one of five key factors for success. Underpins the business case for clear goals, roles, and processes.
- Rachel Toalson – "Constraints in Creativity — Are They a Good Thing?" (Medium, 2019): Reflects on how creative writing flourished under self-imposed rules. Contains the quote "Creativity thrives within constraints, because constraints give us the gift of focus" – a principle applicable to any creative teamwork.
- "The No Club: Putting a Stop to Women’s Dead-End Work" by Linda Babcock et al. (2022): A research-driven book examining how women end up with disproportionate non-promotable tasks (like admin work) and strategies to rebalance work distribution. Provides insight into the costs of unstructured or unchecked teamwork norms on women.
