For many young Nigerians, landing a good-paying job isn’t just a personal milestone, it’s the moment they become responsible for everyone else in their family.
We spoke to Nigerians who became primary providers at a young age about how that responsibility changed the way their families relate to them. Here’s what they said.
My dad suffered a stroke when I was 22. I had just wrapped up my NYSC when I got a remote job with a US company that paid me very well. Obviously, I couldn’t watch my family struggle when I was making decent money, so I started picking up small bills at home to ease the burden on my mum.
Within a year, I was paying our rent, my siblings’ school fees, hospital bills, and food. The strangest part was how my mum started treating me.
After I started paying the bills, she’d call me to discuss debts, extended family disputes, and even personal issues. It felt like I got promoted from daughter to husband overnight. She even makes my siblings show me respect, even though I’m not the firstborn. It’s strange and has caused issues between my older siblings and me.
I love my family, but I don’t want to be treated differently. I just want things to be the way they used to be.
My father lost his job when I was in my final year, and by the time I graduated, I was already sending money home regularly from the printing business I started in school. Eventually, I became the person paying for almost everything. I was happy I had the ability to help my family.
At first, my dad seemed grateful. Then things changed.
Whenever I bought something nice for myself, he’d make comments about how young people waste money. If I gave him financial advice, he’d get defensive and tell me I don’t know more than he does. Sometimes, he’d reject help entirely, only to make my mum call a few days later to ask for money.
I think becoming dependent on me bruised his ego. Instead of seeing me as his son, it often felt like we were rivals in some financial competition.
It’s hard because we were very close when I was younger. These days, every conversation somehow circles back to money. I miss when our relationship wasn’t complicated by who paid the bills.
When I told my family I wanted to be a writer, they thought it was ridiculous. Then in 2023, I started ghostwriting for a small side income, but it quickly became my cash cow. My big mistake was telling my mum how much I actually made.
Everybody had plans for it. My family would talk about spending money I was expecting as if we all worked for it. If I told my mother I wanted to buy something, she’d tell me to hold off because the money had to go somewhere else. My siblings would also pester me for loans when they needed extra cash.
When I told them I was going to stop giving them as much money because I was saving up to move to my own place, they reacted as if I were betraying them. They called me selfish and said I wasn’t the only person that God would bless.
I realised that my family saw my money as a communal resource, and it had to stop. Since I moved out of the house, my relationship with them has frayed. My family thinks my funds have made me proud, while I think that they have become too comfortable treating my money like theirs.
“Becoming the breadwinner of my family just gave me anxiety. I used to flinch and get breathless every time my phone rang because it was almost always someone asking for money, even when I didn’t have it.
My siblings never call to ask how I’m doing. Nobody checks in on me to see if I’m okay. Every conversation was about one bill or the other I had to pay.
I’m a freelance graphic designer, and although I make a good salary, my income isn’t consistent. My family doesn’t seem to care. As the firstborn, all financial solutions come from me. One day, I realised I’d started avoiding my relatives entirely. My phone was constantly on airplane mode, and I only called home out of obligation.
I had to lie that I had lost my regular clients and even threatened to move back home before the constant payment requests reduced.
If you’d asked my extended family about me ten years ago, most of them would’ve described me as a disappointment.
I struggled in school, flunked out of university once and didn’t have any idea what I wanted to do with my future. My parents would compare me to my cousins who were doctors, engineers and bankers. Everything changed when I got into tech.
I used all the free time I had during the lockdown to complete a data analysis course. I got a remote job, and within a couple of years, I was earning more money than most people in my family. Suddenly, I became everyone’s favourite person. The same siblings who never called me before constantly check in now. My parents are constantly posting my face on their social media.
At first, it felt good. I thought maybe I’d finally earned their respect. But after a while, I started noticing most of the attention came with a request. Someone needed help with rent. Someone wanted money for a business. Someone always wanted something from me.
I don’t know how much of the love is real anymore.
Sometimes, all I can think about is how invisible I used to be before I started making money. It’s hard to enjoy being accepted when you know the acceptance only arrived after the money did.
I still help when I can because they’re my family. But a part of me misses when I knew exactly where I stood with everyone.
My older brother has always been the more serious and disciplined sibling, so we always assumed he would be the more successful one. Once he finished school, he got a management job at a supermarket, and for a while, he was earning much more than I was.
Then, I stumbled into videography during my service year in 2020, and now I make four or five times more than my brother does. I never imagined it would affect our relationship because we’ve never been rivals at anything, but as my income grew, my brother became more distant. I’ve tried bridging the gap with gifts and conversation, but he insists nothing is wrong between us.
The change in our relationship is undeniable. I love that I can live a comfortable life, but I miss the brother I used to have.
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