A middle-class Black family’s story of debt, dreams and determination
A higher-ed pro and mother of six shares how inevitable debt can be when you’re navigating a system that wasn’t made for you
Contrary to popular beliefs, debt — especially, credit card debt — isn’t always the result of poor choices. Sometimes it’s the price of love, protection and survival for families navigating a system stacked against them.
I am a law school graduate, higher education professional and mother of six — two biological and four bonus children my husband and I parented. Despite following the so-called right path — earning degrees, maintaining stable employment, owning a home — we’ll enter retirement in the next 10 years with more than $50,000 in unsecured credit card debt.
Our debt wasn’t caused by overspending or irresponsibility. It was caused by trying to give our children what every child deserves: safety, opportunity and dignity. Like many first-generation, middle-class Black families, we’ve had to choose between financial stability and protecting our children from a system that wasn’t built for them.
Our debt wasn’t caused by overspending or irresponsibility. It was caused by trying to give our children what every child deserves: safety, opportunity and dignity.
I attended law school immediately after graduating from college. When I was there, my husband and I got married at age 24. Because we were living in town, with very limited public transportation, he needed a car to get to work. I was attending law school on a full scholarship and had not borrowed any up until this point. We made the (smart) decision to use a low-interest student loan to buy a used car. I guess the used car salesman saw inexperienced young people coming a mile away. We were exploited — sold an overpriced used car and pushed into a second, high-interest loan.
That was our first real lesson in how predatory financial systems prey on young naive couples doing the best they can with limited resources. This was my welcome to the world of financial literacy and adulthood. To this day, some 30 years later, it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and I detest car shopping. I will drive a vehicle as long as I can rather than have to buy a new used car.
Years later, we faced another tough decision. In 2011, my son’s kindergarten teacher, an older white woman who should have retired long before he entered her classroom, targeted him for the school-to-prison pipeline. My bright, verbal son, who had tested into the gifted program at age 4, was labeled “a menace.” My husband was a firefighter, and I worked for a state university. We had moved to a higher-tax district for what we were told were better schools. But that didn’t shield him. We couldn’t ask family for help — most of them were living paycheck to paycheck — so we turned to credit cards to send him to a private school, where his intelligence would be nurtured, not criminalized.
I don’t regret it. If I had to make the same choice again, I would.
Eventually, we had to switch our daughter to a different high school for similar reasons. Bright Black children, especially boys, are too often failed by public schools. Those without the financial means to intervene are left to languish — and are frequently completely left out of the access to higher paid jobs and education by middle school. Not because they lack potential, but because the system was never built with them in mind.
Bright Black children, especially boys, are too often failed by public schools. Those without the financial means to intervene are left to languish.
We also took on significant debt to support our kids’ basketball dreams. Travel sports are not cheap, and most lower income families are being priced out completely. Fortunately, our daughter earned a full-ride athletic scholarship to college, and my son is following in her footsteps, attending a $15,000 academy we couldn’t afford outright. We've dipped into retirement accounts to fund our kids’ dreams, and taken other so-called middle-class missteps, all with the hope of building a better life for our children than we had growing up.
As I look back on my life and my journey with debt — starting in 1989, when I got my first credit card and student loans — I’ve finally come to see that debt is just one part of my story, not the whole of it.
I’m learning not to let debt control my choices or hold me back from living fully, loving my family deeply, and creating joyful memories for my children and myself. Those memories are worth far more than a balance sheet. This year, for example, I’ve made it a priority to travel more to places like Panama, Mexico, Portugal and Thailand. Not just to enjoy new experiences, but to explore affordable retirement options that align with my values and dreams for the future.
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 | A guest post by
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Sometimes, we carry debt not because of carelessness, but because we care too much，
about our kids, their future, the quiet dignity of “keeping them safe.”
I’ve been writing about emotional survival lately, not the kind that looks heroic, but the quiet kind, where you carry the weight so others don’t have to.
Just wanted to say: this spoke to me.
As a Black Mom with a young son this hits deep. My son starts kindergarten this year and this is a reminder to be vigilant and to be open to explore alternative schools and education for him if the need arises.