“You Feel Obligated”: The Pain, Pride, and Power of Africa’s ‘Black Tax’
Across Africa and its global diaspora, the familiar chime of a remittance notification can instantly shape the course of a day, or even a month. From Senegal to Somalia, Egypt to South Africa, fintech alerts from platforms like Western Union and WorldRemit are more than financial updates; they are reminders of responsibility, resilience, and sacrifice.
This enduring reality is commonly known as the “black tax” the unspoken expectation that one individual’s income and relative success must serve as a safety net for an entire extended family. It is a system rooted in collective survival, cultural obligation, and shared history, but one that often comes at a personal cost.
For many African workers, these payments represent both a heavy burden and a profound badge of pride.
A Continent Carrying Its Own
In Lagos, Nigeria’s commercial heartbeat, salaried workers surveyed last year reported sending an average of 20% of their monthly income to support relatives. In South Africa, where unemployment exceeds 42%, a single income supports nearly four people, according to the Pietermaritzburg Economic Justice & Dignity Group. In Kenya, research shows that pressure from family remittances has forced some entrepreneurs to scale back business growth altogether.
Beyond the continent, Africans in the diaspora continue to play a critical economic role. According to the African Development Bank, remittances reached $100 billion in 2022, surpassing both foreign aid and direct investment. These funds pay for rent, healthcare, school fees, and daily survival, quietly sustaining families and futures.
Yet behind the numbers lie deeply personal stories of obligation, endurance, and hope.
Kenya: Giving Back Because You Know the Struggle
For Anthony Kimere, a Kenyan who relocated to Europe 36 years ago, supporting family back home has been a lifelong commitment. Now 55 and driving buses for Transport for London, Kimere has helped cover school fees, medical bills, and living costs for relatives spanning generations.
“You feel obligated to give back because you know the situation,” he says. Growing up in Timau, central Kenya, he experienced firsthand the hardships his family still faces. “You know your background. You know the people you’ve left behind.”
While requests are often direct, Kimere admits there is also a constant internal pressure to help, even when it strains his personal finances. “The more people there are, the more frequent the problems might be,” he reflects.
Zimbabwe: Breaking the Cycle
For Fungai Mangwanya, a 35-year-old data analyst, childhood memories of Zimbabwe’s hyperinflation and economic collapse shaped every career decision he made. Watching his grandmother, who worked over 40 years in education, struggle on a pension that couldn’t cover basic bills fuelled his determination to escape financial instability.
Now living in the UK with his wife, Mangwanya continues to support family members while working to secure a future for generations yet unborn.
“For me, success means my child can choose any school, any career, fail, restart, and never worry about where their next meal will come from,” he says.
South Africa: Success Without Security
Despite reaching her career goal early, running a marketing department before 40 Mpho Hlefana lives with a constant fear of losing everything.
Raised in Soshanguve before moving to Pretoria for better schooling, she learned early that education was the only escape route.
South Africa’s post-apartheid era opened doors, but inequality remains stark. In 2023, the average white household earned nearly five times more than the average black household.
Now navigating separation while raising two young daughters, Hlefana is determined to build generational wealth. “They should do better than I have,” she says. “That’s the goal.”
West Africa and the Cost of Survival
As some countries introduce remittance taxes, including a new 1% tax in the United States, concerns are growing that lower-income migrants will bear the brunt.
For Eguono Lucia Edafioka, a Nigerian doctoral student in the US, remittances are non-negotiable. “When the money is for food and medicine, basic survival, you don’t really have a choice,” she says.
Ghanaian management consultant Abednego Kwame, based in New Jersey, agrees. Since leaving Accra, he has been a primary provider for his parents and sister. “If it’s within my budget, I send it,” he says simply.
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More Than Money
The “black tax” is not just an economic phenomenon, it is a moral contract shaped by history, inequality, and shared struggle. It fuels dreams, sustains families, and quietly underwrites Africa’s social safety net.
For those who carry it, the weight is heavy, but so is the pride.
Because for many Africans, success is never individual. It is collective, inherited, and owed forward.
