I grew up in a Black household in Zimbabwe, where money was never something you saved – it was something you used to survive. If there was enough for today, we were grateful. Tomorrow could worry about itself. I remember my parents sitting around the kitchen table, whispering about how there wasn’t enough for school fees, books, or even food.
I was lucky. My family and community – the whole village really – chipped in to get me through school and eventually into university. Aunties, uncles, cousins, even neighbours played their part. So, when I got my first job, it felt natural to give back. I used my pay cheque from my first job to pay my siblings’ school fees and to send money home for groceries, it became my responsibility. I wore it like a badge of honour.
But pride came with a price. Month after month, I was left with nothing after payday. Sometimes I even went into debt, just to make sure everyone back home was okay. At first, I thought that’s just how life was supposed to be. But spending time with people from other cultures opened my eyes. They were saving, investing, planning for the future – while I was struggling to find balance between taking care of myself and honoring my duty.
What I didn’t realise then was that I had stepped into something bigger than myself: the ‘Black tax’.
What is the ‘Black tax’?
If you’re not familiar with the term, it’s a phrase that originates from South Africa. It describes how Black people who were the first in their families to get steady jobs had to send money home to parents, brothers, sisters and relatives. During apartheid, when families had very little, one person working in the city often had to support everyone back home.
Today, this practice continues, not because people are forced to do so, but because family support is still seen as a duty and sign of respect. In modern times these payments can mean paying school fees or university tuition, helping with medical or funeral costs, buying school uniforms and books for cousins. These expenses might be regular, like monthly payments, or unexpected in times of emergency.
And it’s not just my story – it’s thousands of others - feeling the weight of everyone’s needs on our shoulders. It comes from love, gratitude, and Ubuntu – “I am because we are.” But it can also feel heavy. You want to save for a house, invest, or even just travel, but your pay cheque is already spoken for before it lands.
In fact, the UK sends billions abroad each year in remittances. India alone receives over £9 billion, Pakistan almost £3 billion, and Nigeria over £1 billion*. Behind every one of those billions are people like me, sending money back home to keep families afloat.
The challenge is that while the money helps, it often leaves us stretched thin here. Living in the UK is expensive – rising rent, bills, and the daily cost of living eat up so much already. The average household here barely manages to save, yet for many of us, sending money home isn’t optional. It’s love. It’s duty. It’s survival.
I am proud that I can support my family, because I know the sacrifices they made so that I could have opportunities they never had. But I have also learned that without clear limits and good planning, the Black tax can keep me stuck in the same cycle of just getting by – unable to save for my own future while always putting others first.
Over time, I’ve come to appreciate that this isn’t something unique to me or to African families. Many cultures expect relatives who move away or work abroad to send money home.
Hearing these stories from friends around the world reminds me that I’m part of something bigger - a global pattern of families relying on one another, across borders and across generations. It makes me feel less alone, and it gives me strength to keep finding balance.
Learning to balance family, money and self
1. Honest conversations
For years I said yes to every expense. But living in the UK is expensive, and I was finding it hard to juggle my finances. So, I had an honest conversation with my family. I suggested we come to an agreement - a budget if you like - on what they needed for essentials and what I needed for my own commitments. We agreed that if there was anything left over, I would top up what I gave them. This way, I don’t feel resentful about the money I send, and it feels good to give a little extra back when I can.
2. Building an emergency cushion
When you travel by plane, they say you should always put on your own oxygen mask first in an emergency. I have been saving towards at least three months of my own living expenses. This safety net means I’m prepared when something unexpected comes up for my family. Knowing I have savings gives me peace of mind and takes away some of the stress of unexpected costs.
3. Keeping an eye on my future
It's just as important that I care for my future self too, which is why I keep putting money into my retirement account and some simple, low-cost investments. Even small, regular amounts make a difference over time. Little and often is my way of making sure I don’t lose sight of my own future while I’m helping my family in the present.
4. Empowering my siblings
It’s important for me to share my knowledge with my siblings and other family members so they can benefit from the lessons I’ve learned along the way. Knowledge really is power. I’ve talked to them about the 50/15/5 rule - use 50% of your take-home pay for essentials such as housing, food, transport, childcare, debt repayments, and other obligations. Allocate 15% towards retirement savings, and 5% for short-term savings or an emergency fund. The remaining 30% can be saved or spent on whatever you like. This will help them start their working lives with some good financial habits. It's not a perfect formula, but it's still a starting point.
Looking ahead
For me, the Black tax is something I do out of love and respect. But it is also a financial responsibility. It’s a way of honouring the sacrifices my family made, but it’s also a constant reminder that my journey isn’t just mine – it’s tied to everyone who raised me. Some days it feels unfair. Other days it feels like a privilege. Most days, it feels like both.
But these practical steps - being honest with my family, having a financial safety net, saving carefully - are helping me move forward with more confidence, slowly building a stronger financial future while still showing up for the people I love.
Source: * The migration observatory