Look at our logo. What’s inside the “O” in Voqal?
It’s subtle. It’s easy to miss. You can look at it dozens of times and simply see a word. But inside that “O” is a speech bubble.
Maybe you were already aware of this. Maybe this is the first time you’ve noticed. Wherever you fall, now that you see it, you can’t unseen it. Kinda like the arrow in the FedEx logo, or the bear inside the Toblerone mountain, or the 31 in the Baskin-Robbins logo. When our awareness changes, reality shifts, and we shine the light on aspects we never saw before.
Often, the most important things we need to illuminate are not dramatic. They’re subtle. They’re familiar. They’re embedded in routine. So much of inequity operates like this. It’s built into the design. It hides in plain sight. It’s normalized by repetition. Until someone says, “look at the O”.
Look at the data.
Look at the pattern.
Look at who’s missing.
Look at who’s consistently at the margins.
In housing policy, the “O” might be an eligibility requirement that quietly excludes extended family. In education, the “O” might be a funding formula that prevents money from flowing to high-poverty districts. In finance, the “O” might be the default investment criterion that increases resources to evildoers. In legislation, the “O” might be a process that unintentionally privileges some voices over others. In our own work, sometimes the “O” is embedded in “the way we’ve always done it”.
When we shine the light, we make space for voices that have been minimized, we surface patterns in data that others would rather ignore, and we name what is uncomfortable so that transformation becomes possible. In our work, once inequity is exposed, it becomes harder to defend. Once the pattern is visible, change becomes possible.
When we redesigned the logo in 2024, we added the speech bubble. It is small, but its meaning is not. It is a little declaration that voice matters. It tells everyone that dialogue matters. It reminds us that communities are central, not an afterthought.
When we consider our work, we ask ourselves questions to see what we’re missing. Questions like: What perspectives are being filtered out? What have we normalized that deserves a closer look? What feels like “it is the way it is” but might actually be inequitable? Where do good intentions mask uneven outcomes? What assumptions are being reinforced simply because they are familiar?
We exist to interrupt unjust systems. And to examine ourselves with the same rigor. If something feels dim, say it. If you see a pattern, name it. If the light flickers, don’t ignore it. If something feels too easy, too comfortable, too aligned with the status quo, pause.
That’s Shine the Light.
