How Young Nigerians are Coping with Black Tax

For young Nigerians who dedicate a portion of their income to supporting their families, the issue isn't the will—it's the means.

Commuters alight at the Marina Station of Lagos Blue Line rail during the inauguration of commercial operation of the mass transit in Lagos on September 4, 2023.

Commuters alight at the Marina Station of Lagos Blue Line rail during the inauguration of commercial operation of the mass transit in Lagos on September 4, 2023.

Photo by Pius Utomi/AFP via Getty Images.

According to Piggyvest’s 2023 savings report, four in five income earners in Nigeria pay Black tax monthly or occasionally — a colloquialism for sending money to family. It’s a common practice for many young people, either due to sheer obligation or personal will. Within Nigeria’s increasingly challenging economy, many young people are involuntarily thrust into the role of financial lifelines, taking over some, if not all, the burden of catering to the needs of their siblings and parents — and even extended relatives sometimes.

“Black tax is a double-edged sword,” Honour Aghedo tells OkayAfrica. Aghedo, a music executive, believes there are pros and cons to dealing with Black tax. He lists discipline as a pro “because you learn about saving early on and become smarter as you grow. I have eight people depending on me. I left home to care for home, so I can’t afford to play games.”

For media sales executive Henry Ilori, there’s no pressure on him to provide for his parents and siblings. “It’s not like an obligation. It’s something I do because I choose to. I also see it as giving back to them because, as they grow old, they don’t need to stress too hard for money,” Ilori says. His role is more supportive, assisting with bills and sending money to his siblings periodically.

The term Black tax originated in South Africa as a reference to upwardly mobile Black people who are obligated to assist their immediate families and sometimes their external community. In South Africa, the Black tax was affected by the history of racial subjugation that continues to foster poverty and economic inequality amongst Black South Africans – in comparison to white South Africans.

In Nigeria, it’s the effect of years of the economy consistently getting worse due to unkind policies, blatant mismanagement of the country’s resources, and intractable corruption by the political elite. As a result, many young people aren’t just working and hustling for themselves; their financial plans always need to consider family.

With the Black tax, the will isn’t the problem; it’s the means. When weasked our community if they’d be willing to be financially responsible for their parents, the answers were overwhelmingly affirmative. However, some responses indicated that fulfilling this responsibility is challenging due to the current economic conditions. “Willing yes…..capable nah,” Instagram user @_thewideeyedwanderer_ wrote.

It’s a global issue: Many young people worldwide face high inflation levels, diminishing their spending power and making it harder to cope with the burden of Black taxes. In response to our post, @wentemi stated that her parents already have 401(k) and trust accounts. However, that privilege is rare for most Nigerians and many Africans.

In Nigeria specifically, the government owing pensions is an age-long dilemma, making it hard for older people to relax and for young people to not have to cater to their parents’ financial needs. Many older people who worked in the informal sector didn’t set up pensions, which meant their children were their retirement plans.

Many, if not all, young people wouldn’t mind taking care of all their parents’ and siblings’ needs as long as there’s enough. Even if there’s not enough, paying Black tax is an accepted obligation because there’s a general belief that it’s a blessing to take care of family.

“I see Black tax as a privilege, and maybe I’m being sentimental,” Aghedo says. “Growing up wasn’t glamorous, but my mum took care of things, so now I can lift the weight off her shoulders, and that’s great. There’s no greater feeling than hearing my mum say she’s proud of me and those prayers [after you’ve handled something financially].”

Though Ilori’s parents don’t require him to contribute financially, he’s eager to help his siblings. “I plan my [monthly] budget accordingly, and I think they also understand that they need to give me a heads-up. They can’t just reach out spontaneously, but I’ve also factored that these requests will come in, so I don’t overspend.”

While Ilori can take an, “If I don’t have, I don’t have” approach to Black tax, Aghedo’s situation means a different sort of pressure comes with being the primary breadwinner for your family as a young person. “There are some days when you think, ‘I did not ask to be born, why am I paying for all these bills?’” Aghedo says.

“I have a better-paying job now, but when I didn’t, I had to work multiple jobs to ensure that I could feed home,” he continues. “For me to get to this position, somebody had to make a sacrifice. Now, I’m in a position where I can be smart about the sacrifices I make and show my siblings how to do better. Once you figure your way around it, you can appreciate life differently. Or you get to be angry at the world. It’s how you see life.”