If “j” is the alphabet’s youngest letter, “u” is close behind, though its story is even stranger: for most of written history, “u” wasn’t a separate letter from “v” at all. They were interchangeable forms of the same character, and untangling them took centuries.
A Short History of “u”
“u” traces back to the same Phoenician letter as “f,” “v,” and eventually “w” — a letter called waw, thought to represent a hook or peg. That single ancestor splitting into four modern letters is one of the more tangled family trees in the entire Latin alphabet, and “u” and “v” in particular stayed genuinely inseparable for an extraordinarily long time.
In Latin, “V” served double duty, representing both a vowel sound (what we’d now write as “u”) and a consonant sound (closer to modern “v” or even “w” in some reconstructions of Roman pronunciation). The rounded lowercase form we now call “u” gradually emerged through handwriting as a stylistic variant of “V,” used somewhat interchangeably depending on a scribe’s personal habits or a given manuscript’s conventions, rather than as a marker of a genuinely different letter.
This ambiguity persisted for well over a thousand years. It wasn’t until the Renaissance, alongside the similar and closely related split between “i” and “j” covered in our earlier entry on lowercase “j,” that scholars and printers began deliberately separating “u” and “v” into distinct letters representing distinct sounds. The rounded form became fixed as the vowel “u,” while the pointed form became fixed as the consonant “v,” and this convention gradually solidified across European printing through the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries. English didn’t fully standardize the distinction until surprisingly late by modern standards, with some printed materials mixing the two conventions well into the 1600s.
Anatomy of a Lowercase “u”
Lowercase “u” is built from two vertical strokes connected by a rounded curve at the bottom — essentially the mirror image of “n” turned upside down, sharing the same fundamental stem-and-curve logic but flipped vertically. The first stem, the connecting curve, and the second stem make up the letter’s entire structure, with no crossbar, no bowl, and no branching elements to complicate things.
Because of this close structural relationship to “n,” designers pay close attention to keeping the connecting curve of “u” visually consistent with the shoulder curve already established in “n,” even though the two curves sit at opposite ends of their respective letters. Some modern typefaces give the second stem of “u” a small tail or extension at the bottom right, a stylistic echo of certain historical and calligraphic treatments, though many contemporary sans-serif designs keep both stems perfectly even and symmetrical instead.
The width of “u” also needs careful calibration relative to “n,” since both letters are built from the same two-stem-plus-curve logic and any noticeable difference in their proportions can make the typeface feel inconsistent, even though the two letters serve completely different linguistic functions.
Designing the Letter From Scratch
Type designers very often draw “u” immediately after “n,” essentially building it as an upside-down variation of the same underlying curve, though, just as with “d” being adapted from “b” rather than mechanically mirrored, “u” typically needs its own pass of adjustments rather than a literal flip.
The connecting curve at the bottom of “u” gets particular attention, since it needs to feel like it belongs to the same typeface as the shoulder curve in “n,” “h,” and “m,” without looking like an exact inverted copy, which can sometimes read as visually odd once set in real text. Designers often test subtle differences in curve tightness and stem spacing between “u” and its relatives until the whole family feels unified without looking mechanically duplicated.
The optional tail at the bottom right of the second stem is one of the more stylistically meaningful choices in the letter’s design. Including it tends to give “u” a more traditional, calligraphic feel, referencing older handwritten and printed conventions; omitting it produces a cleaner, more modern, more symmetrical letter that some contemporary sans-serif and geometric typefaces favor instead.
Unique Facts About “u”
The “u” and “v” split is one of the clearest examples in the entire Latin alphabet of two modern letters emerging from what was, for most of history, genuinely a single character used interchangeably — a distinction so late in developing that it’s sometimes surprising to people who assume every letter in the alphabet has an ancient, clearly defined identity.
Because of this shared history, some historic inscriptions, monument lettering, and even some modern stylized logos and designs still use “V” in place of “U” for a deliberately classical or Roman aesthetic, a nod to the era before the two letters fully separated.
“u” is also notable for being one of the vowels most frequently involved in digraphs and diphthongs across English and other languages, appearing constantly in combinations like “ou,” “au,” and “eu,” which makes its exact width and spacing an important consideration for how comfortably it sits next to a wide range of neighboring letters.
“u” in Popular Fonts
In Garamond and other old-style serifs, “u” often includes a small calligraphic tail on the second stem, echoing older handwritten conventions, along with visible stroke contrast that matches the broad-nib pen character of the rest of the typeface. Helvetica keeps both stems even, clean, and symmetrical, with no tail, contributing to its minimal, engineered character. Futura similarly favors a clean, symmetrical structure, with the connecting curve rendered close to a simple geometric arc.
In script and handwriting fonts, “u” is typically drawn with a flowing entry stroke and a connecting curve that naturally links into the next letter, since the letter appears so frequently in running cursive text that its shape has an outsized effect on how smoothly an entire script typeface reads in real words.
Summary
Lowercase “u” carries one of the more surprising stories in the Latin alphabet, spending well over a thousand years as an interchangeable variant of “v” before the two letters finally split into distinct characters during the Renaissance. Structurally, it functions almost like an inverted “n,” sharing curve logic with several other letters while still requiring its own careful calibration to feel properly at home in a finished typeface.

