Why Money Conversations Are Still Taboo in Families

The Reluctance to Talk Money at Home

Imagine sitting around the dinner table in your Lagos home, the aroma of jollof rice filling the air, and your family chatting about everything from the latest Nollywood drama to aunty's wedding drama. But when the conversation veers toward the stack of bills or how to fund your sibling's school fees, there's an awkward silence. Sound familiar? In many Nigerian families, money talks are like that uninvited guest—everyone senses it, but no one wants to acknowledge it. Why do we shy away from these discussions? It's a mix of deep-rooted cultural norms, fear of judgment, and the practical chaos of daily survival in a country where naira fluctuations keep us on our toes.

This taboo isn't unique to Nigeria, but it hits harder here. With economic pressures like rising fuel prices and the hustle of the informal economy, families are more intertwined financially than ever. Yet, we treat money like a forbidden fruit. Let's unpack why this happens and how it's holding us back—and more importantly, how we can start changing it.

Cultural Roots: Respect, Pride, and the 'No Asking' Rule

In Nigerian culture, family is everything. From the extended kinship networks in the East to the close-knit Yoruba compounds in the Southwest, respect for elders and communal harmony are non-negotiable. Talking about money? That often feels like challenging authority or exposing vulnerabilities.

Take my own experience growing up in Abuja. My father, a civil servant, always handled the finances. If I asked about our budget, I'd get a stern 'Adults' business' reply. It wasn't malice; it was the norm. Elders provided, children received—that's the script. But in Igbo land, where apprenticeship (known as 'Igba Boi') is a rite of passage, money is earned through hard work and shared sparingly. Admitting financial struggles could be seen as weakness, eroding the image of the strong provider.

Pride plays a big role too. In a society where 'face' matters—think of the elaborate burials in the Delta or the flashy Christmas returns to the village—admitting you're broke feels like failure. Remember the 2020 EndSARS protests? Amid the chaos, families whispered about lost jobs but rarely discussed pooling resources openly. It's this pride that keeps conversations bottled up, even when everyone knows times are tough.

When Tradition Clashes with Modernity

Fast-forward to today, with Gen Z Nigerians glued to their phones, chasing side hustles on Instagram. The generational gap widens the taboo. Parents raised in the military era or pre-oil boom might see money talk as impolite, while kids view it as essential for financial literacy. In urban centers like Port Harcourt, where oil workers' families grapple with volatile incomes, this clash is evident. A young professional might want to discuss investments in crypto or real estate, but mum shuts it down with, 'God will provide.' It's a collision of old values and new realities, leaving money discussions in limbo.

The Fear Factor: Judgment, Conflict, and Inequality

Beyond culture, fear is the silent enforcer. Who wants to hear 'I told you so' from a sibling who's always been the 'responsible' one? Or worse, spark a family feud over inheritance, a hot-button issue in Nigeria where land and property disputes have torn clans apart.

Consider a typical scenario in Kano: A family runs a small trading business. The father passes away, and suddenly, his sons and daughters avoid talking finances for fear of accusations of greed. One son might have siphoned funds for his own ventures, but no one confronts it. The result? Stagnation. Money stays unspoken, problems fester.

Inequality amplifies this. In polygamous families common in the North, wives and children from different households compete subtly for resources. Bringing up money could ignite jealousy or favoritism debates. Even in monogamous setups in Enugu, gender roles persist—men as breadwinners, women as homemakers—making joint financial talks feel unnatural.

Psychologically, it's exhausting. Studies from the Central Bank of Nigeria highlight low financial inclusion, with many families operating on trust rather than transparency. But that trust erodes without dialogue. During the 2023 naira redesign crisis, ATMs ran dry, and families hoarded cash in secret. No one shared strategies because, well, it's just not done.

Real-Life Ripples: How Silence Affects Us

The consequences are tangible. Kids grow up financially illiterate, repeating cycles of debt. Think of the young graduate in Ibadan borrowing from loan apps at exorbitant rates because no one taught her about savings. Marriages strain too—I've seen couples in Abuja divorce over hidden debts, all because early money talks were dodged.

Economically, it hampers growth. Families miss out on collective bargaining power, like group investments in agriculture or education funds. In a nation where remittances from the diaspora total billions, open talks could optimize those funds instead of letting them fuel individual splurges.

Breaking the Ice: Why It's Time to Normalize Money Talks

So, why persist with the taboo when the stakes are high? It's not about blame; it's about evolution. As Nigeria navigates inflation above 30% and a youth population hungry for empowerment, families that talk money thrive.

Start small. Picture a family in Benin City deciding to hold monthly 'naija finance nights'—discussing everything from POS agent fees to budgeting for Sallah. It builds trust and demystifies money.

Practical Steps to Start the Conversation

1. Choose the Right Moment: Don't ambush during a heated argument. Pick a neutral time, like after a family meal or during a quiet evening. Frame it positively: 'Hey, with fuel prices up, how can we plan better together?'

2. Use Relatable Nigerian Examples: Ground it in reality. Talk about how MTN subscribers save on data bundles or how keke riders budget for repairs. Share a story, like how a neighbor in Owerri turned a family cooperative into a thriving poultry farm.

3. Educate Gently: Introduce tools without overwhelming. Recommend free resources like the Nigerian Financial Literacy Week or apps like PiggyVest. For elders, relate it to proverbs—'The river that forgets its source will dry up,' meaning remember shared roots in finances too.

4. Address Sensitivities Head-On: Acknowledge fears. In mixed-faith families, blend Islamic principles of zakat with Christian tithing to show money as a communal blessing. If inequality looms, start with non-monetary topics like goals, then ease into numbers.

5. Make It a Habit: Set rules—no judgment, everyone speaks. Track progress, like a shared family wallet for emergencies. Over time, it fosters resilience.

In my extended family, we finally started after a cousin's business collapsed during COVID. One vulnerable chat led to collective support, turning crisis into opportunity.

Looking Ahead: Building Wealth Through Words

Money conversations don't have to be taboo; they can be the glue that strengthens Nigerian families. In a country as vibrant and resilient as ours—from the bustling markets of Onitsha to the tech hubs of Yaba—embracing these talks unlocks potential. It's about shifting from silence to strategy, pride to partnership.

Start today. Your family's future wallet might thank you. Whether it's negotiating school fees in Abuja or planning for retirement in Calabar, open dialogue is the real currency of progress. Let's make money talks as normal as pidgin banter—essential, lively, and unapologetically ours.