Last year, during Women's History Month, I had the privilege of attending a remarkable event hosted by The Woodson African American Museum of Florida—'First Ladies in African American History.' The ceremony honored local trailblazers who shattered glass ceilings in their respective fields. Among the six inductees were:
Nikki Gaskin-Capehart, the first African-American woman president and CEO of the Pinellas County Urban League.
Renee Edwards, the first African-American woman to brand an outdoor shopping conglomerate in the Southeast region.
Dr. Juel Shannon Smith, the first African-American woman to host a television show on WUSF.
Watching these phenomenal women be celebrated for their groundbreaking achievements was truly inspiring. This year, I find myself reflecting once again on the significance of being ‘the first’—especially within the African-American community. Whether it’s becoming the first in our family to graduate from college, buy a home, or earn a high salary, these milestones carry the power to reshape family legacies and set new standards for future generations.
But stepping into the role of "the first" isn’t just about achievement. It comes with layers that aren’t always acknowledged. In my own journey of building financial stability, I’ve felt the pressure to set the example and to financially support loved-ones when needed; I've had to navigate financial decisions without a clear roadmap, and I’ve come to understand the power of representation. These realities are rarely discussed, yet they shape the experience of so many first-generation wealth builders. Understanding the pressure, the uncertainty, and the power offers a deeper look at what it truly means to be "the first" in your family.
The Pressure
For many of us first-generation wealth builders, the journey isn’t just about securing a better future for ourselves—it’s about what that progress means for those around us. Achieving a level of stability that previous generations couldn’t always access comes with an unspoken responsibility: to lead by example, to lift as we climb, and to make sure no one gets left behind. This pressure isn’t always external—sometimes, it’s something we place on ourselves, a relentless push to ensure our progress isn’t just temporary but transformative.
I know this feeling well. I’ve spent my entire career in financial services, moving through industries that exposed, in real time, the impact of money struggles—ones I had witnessed not only in my family but also in my own early adult years. From life and health insurance to mortgage lending and small business financing, each role gave me deeper insight into the systems that so many people, especially those who look like me, struggle to navigate. But beyond the technical knowledge, it also reinforced a difficult truth: financial security isn’t just about the numbers—it’s about access, awareness, and the ability to feel secure in what you’ve built.
Growing up, I saw hardship ripple through my family. As a young adult, I sank into the exhausting cycle of being underpaid, relying on payday loans to get through the month, and having nothing set aside for emergencies. Let’s be clear, this was not due to irresponsibility. It was the result of gaps in knowledge and access. The more I learned, the more I felt obligated to share, to protect, and to be the one who had the answers. I didn’t just want to witness change—I wanted to help build the bridge that carried us from survival to stability and from financial struggle to something better. But with that came the constant feeling that I needed to do more, know more, and have more—as if stability alone wasn’t enough.
I still wrestle with this today, but I’ve come to realize that pressure, while heavy, isn’t inherently bad. It’s a reflection of how deeply we care about our families, our communities, and the legacies we’re building. The challenge is learning to carry it in a way that doesn’t break us. Stability should not feel like a finish line that keeps moving further away. Quite frankly, we need to stop moving the finish line. Instead, think of your own financial stability as a foundation—because that’s exactly what it is. And as with any structure, a solid foundation is the first pillar. From there, you can build as you choose.
My hope is that by reframing it this way, we can release some of the self-imposed pressure to constantly do more and instead give ourselves permission to stand firm in what we’ve already built.
Navigating Without a Blueprint
The deeper I immersed myself in financial literacy, the more I started to notice a quiet shift, not in the world around me, but in the way I made decisions. The financial habits modeled for me—stretching every paycheck, relying on windfalls like tax refunds to catch up, and prioritizing immediate needs over long-term planning—were rooted in survival. But the more I learned, the more I found myself making choices that reflected stability instead. Each new insight challenged what had once felt instinctive, pushing me to unlearn and rebuild my relationship with money in real time.
I carried no shame in having once operated from that survival mindset. How could I, when I understood why those habits existed? They were shaped by generations of systemic barriers, limited access to financial tools, and the need to make ends meet by any means necessary. But as I absorbed new ways of thinking about money, I realized there was no clear guide for how to bridge the gap between what I had inherited and what I was trying to build.
The journey of financial transformation can feel like walking an unfamiliar path without a map. At first, there may not be a blueprint or a mentor who has navigated both breaking generational cycles and learning how to make financial stability feel natural. That’s when the true challenge becomes trusting yourself to make decisions that may feel foreign at first.
If you’ve ever felt like you were figuring this out as you go, you’re not alone. Many of us are learning in real time and redefining what financial security looks like for ourselves.
The Power
The beauty of being the first is that once you push past the pressure and uncertainty, you gain something just as significant—power. Not power in the traditional sense, but the power of choice, the power of representation, and the power to create lasting change.
For many of us, financial decisions have always been dictated by necessity. The focus was on making it to the next paycheck, covering the next bill, or stretching every dollar to meet immediate needs. But financial security introduces something new: options. The ability to plan ahead, to take risks that were once unimaginable, and to build a life based on intention rather than survival. This shift doesn’t happen overnight, but with each strategic decision, you reclaim control over your financial future.
And with that control comes the ability to redefine what financial stability looks like—not just for yourself, but for those who see themselves in you. Many of us grew up without direct examples of financial stability within our families. Now, we have the opportunity to become the example. Every step forward, no matter how small, plants a seed. A child who grows up watching someone confidently manage their finances sees stability as normal. A sibling who once felt stuck may begin to believe a different future is within reach. A community that lacked access to financial knowledge can start to build generational wealth, simply because someone dared to go first.
The Journey Forward
When I began writing this piece, I wanted to give peace of mind to those who feel the weight of being “the first.” I wanted to offer reassurance that you are not alone in the pressure, the uncertainty, or the responsibility that comes with changing your financial reality. Being on a similar journey myself, I understand how isolating it can feel to navigate new financial territory without a clear guide. The doubts, the trial and error, the moments of exhaustion—I've felt them all. But I also know what’s possible when you push through.
Finding support from others who understand this experience makes all the difference. By connecting with a like-minded community, we can lighten the load and move forward together. That’s why I created Scraped Knee Finance—a space for those of us who are rewriting the financial stories we were given. I am a Certified Financial Education Instructor, but I’m in no way speaking from a place of perfection. I’m on this journey too. But through lived experience, years of working in financial services, and a deep understanding of what it means to go from survival mode to stability, I know that with consistent, strategic actions and time, transformation is possible—no matter your starting place.
I want to help others move away from the version of themselves that feels stuck and overwhelmed by struggle and into a version that has a financial safety net, has their needs met, and can think long-term without fear. Scraped Knee Finance will be a resource, a community, and a reminder that financial growth is not reserved for the privileged—it’s for all of us.
I’ll be writing more about this journey, sharing insights, and creating space for conversations that matter. If anything in this piece resonated with you, I’d love to hear your perspective. Drop a comment, share your thoughts, or message me directly. Because this journey is not meant to be walked alone.
Let’s grow together.