Distrust Is Rational—But Avoidance Has a Cost
I didn’t realize how far behind my parents and I were in understanding the American financial system until my husband and I moved to the Bay Area in 2018.
Now, before anyone gets defensive—pause. This isn’t about intelligence, hustle, or work ethic. We had the degrees. We had the jobs. We were doing what we were told was “right.”
But something wasn’t adding up.
Our neighborhoods were full of multigenerational families buying homes priced at $1.5- 3 million dollars (yes, that is a real number, and yes, California will humble you quickly). What really made our eyebrows raise wasn’t just the price—it was the buyers.
Young adults. Similar jobs. Similar education. Same LinkedIn energy.
So naturally, we asked the question many Black professionals think but rarely say out loud:
How are they doing this?
Not “keeping up.”
Not “stretching.”
Actually owning.
The Answers Were… Enlightening (and Slightly Annoying)
As conversations unfolded—at dinner tables, casual get-togethers, and awkward-but-revealing moments—we started hearing stories we were never exposed to growing up:
- Parents buying homes for their children so they could stay in the area (college graduations, wedding gifts and push presents)
- Life insurance used as a wealth and liquidity tool—not just something you get when someone passes away
- Informal capital pools where families lend to each other without banks involved
- Business ownership treated as a family strategy, not an individual risk
- Children who grew up watching money conversations instead of being shielded from them
- Financial decisions made collectively, instead of one person carrying the entire burden
And suddenly, it clicked.
This wasn’t magic.
This was infrastructure.
Meanwhile, Back at Home…
My parents taught me what many Black parents were taught to teach:
Go to college.
Get a good job.
Save your money.
Buy a house.
If investing came up at all, it usually stopped at:
- A 401(k)
- And if we were really dreaming big… maybe a rental property one day
And listen—that guidance wasn’t wrong. It was protective. It was rooted in survival, dignity, and doing what had proven to work in a system that historically did not work for us.
But it was also… limited.
“We Had to Figure It Out on Our Own”
When I started talking to Black friends and coworkers, the pattern was impossible to ignore.
So many of us:
- Learned financial literacy through trial and error
- Pieced together knowledge from friends, books, and late-night Google searches
- Were never invited into real conversations about money—just expected to “figure it out”
Today, social media has cracked the door open. There are honest educators and credible voices out there. But there’s also noise. Performative wealth. “Experts” selling dreams without context.
What’s still missing for many of us is a trusted space:
- To ask questions without feeling judged
- To unpack trauma and strategy
- To learn without being sold to or talked down to
Distrust Is Rational—But Avoidance Has a Cost
Let’s be clear:
Our distrust of financial systems didn’t come from nowhere.
It came from:
- Exploitation
- Redlining
- Predatory products
- Broken promises dressed up as opportunity
That skepticism was inherited honestly.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth:
Avoiding the conversation entirely now has a cost—one we’re paying in delayed wealth, unnecessary stress, and fragile success.
We didn’t inherit silence because we were uninformed.
We inherited it because our ancestors were wise.
The real question is whether that wisdom still fits the world we’re navigating today.
Why We’re Bringing Back Wine & Wealth
That’s exactly why we’re restarting our Wine & Wealth series.
Not as a lecture.
Not as a sales pitch.
And definitely not as a “fix your finances in 60 minutes” situation.
But as:
- A space to learn from financial advisors whose actual job is education, not intimidation
- A space to talk openly with each other about the things we were never taught
- A space where honesty, and community coexist
Because wealth conversations shouldn’t feel cold, clinical, or shame-filled.
They should feel like what they are: necessary, overdue, and worth showing up for.
So come curious.
Come skeptical.
Come with questions.
Finally come with wine to share!
Always Have, Always Will ~ Kalie
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