For me, living above my means meant giving people a shortcut to taking me seriously. Oh, she’s wealthy. She must be onto something. Let’s hear what she has to say.

When people hear “living above your means,” they might picture designer clothes and flashy cars. I’ve done it by playing philanthropist without the funds, volunteering my time and talent when I should have been sending an invoice, or putting a donation on a credit card. I’ve done it by letting people use my work for free when I could have charged a licensing fee. And I’ve put off protecting what I create, whether that meant registering the copyright in my writing, applying to register a trademark, or applying for a patent. Sometimes I wanted somebody to tell me I was creative more than I wanted to do the paperwork that came with treating my work like an asset.

What life lesson did I learn too late?

Does today count?

I knew I was missing something, but it was like a typo in my own manuscript. I could read the same page over and over and miss it every time.

My aha moment came in November 2026, when I read about Nicole Whitted. On September 3, she launched a Change.org petition urging members of the incoming House to vote against electing Hakeem Jeffries as Speaker in January 2027. Democrats won back the House in November, and Jeffries, the House Democratic leader, announced his candidacy for Speaker on November 4. By November 7, the petition had passed a million signatures.

I couldn’t believe she had the cojones to organize people around a vote they don’t get to cast. Members of the House elect the Speaker. Constituents can tell their representatives how they want them to vote, and Whitted gave a whole lot of people a way to do just that.

Then I saw the dollar sign. The New York Post had estimated Whitted could earn more than $500,000. Change.org disputed that estimate and told the Post its website had carried inaccurate earnings information. The petition discloses that Whitted is a Change Ambassador who receives compensation in connection with it. Her actual compensation wasn’t disclosed. Still, when I first read that figure, I was incensed.

I caught myself looking down on her. Then I thought, If only I could fail that spectacularly.

The rest of the self-talk came fast.

I could never do something like that.

People would hate me.

As a Black woman, I’m supposed to uphold democracy.

What would my friends, my family, my community think if they thought I was cashing in on it?

Even for half a million dollars, how would I face them? I

would never do anything just for money.

The love of money would never be my legacy.

Then my inner advocate piped up.

“Imagine how much good you could do with that money.

She tapped into how people felt and gave them a place to say it.

Didn’t you give people a megaphone when you were a broadcast news reporter?

Didn’t you take a paycheck to help people air their grievances?”

“Sure,” I said. “The First Amendment protects freedom of the press. My first thought when I saw that number was, Is this a grift?”

“The same amendment protects the right to petition the government,” my advocate said. “

What about getting paid made you jump to ‘grift’?”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game. “

I’d spent the morning arguing with myself about a woman’s paycheck while wondering why my own business model had me chasing invoices. I’m a writer. Every time I hit a key, I’m doing work that ought to generate cash. Some writers have figured that out. I’ve spent a lot of time treating writing as a noble calling and leaving the income part to sort itself out.

I’m still figuring out why I’ve spent so many years looking for approval. But I remember moving to New York City for a job and needing a place to stay. My friends had no room at the inn. I found temporary lodging with a stranger. External validation doesn’t pay my bills, and it didn’t put a roof over my head that time, either.

Trying to impress people and hoping they’ll like me usually comes at my own expense. I can care about the work, care about the people it serves, and send the invoice.

Better late than never.

What life lesson did you learn too late?

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