The Thin Line Between Generosity & Exploitation

There is a thin line between being generous and being exploited. Sometimes, the difference is not in how much you give, but in how people perceive you when they become accustomed to receiving from you.

Some people see your generosity and respond with gratitude, consideration, and a desire to give back in whatever ways they can. Others become so focused on what you can provide that they stop considering what you might need. They see you as someone who has enough, someone who can manage, someone who will always find a way. And before you know it, your generosity has become an expectation, your kindness has become an obligation, and your capacity to give has been mistaken for an endless supply.

I have experienced this in different areas of my life, and I have come to understand that exploitation does not always announce itself through obvious cruelty. Sometimes, it shows up in ordinary interactions, in unspoken expectations, and in relationships where one person's needs are always considered while the other's remain invisible.

When I was younger, before I got married, I went out with friends to a restaurant and club. We danced, laughed, and had a wonderful night. When it was time to leave, we ordered an Uber to take us to a friend's house, where we would spend the night.

Everyone had been drinking, so I offered to pay for the cab rather than ask everyone to contribute. It seemed like a simple, generous thing to do. However, as the journey continued and we drove farther into an unfamiliar area, I began wondering how much the fare would eventually cost. I was working, but I was also on a budget. I had recently been promoted into management, and my friends knew this.

The next morning, everyone was nursing a hangover. Personally, I wanted a glass of water, perhaps some tea, and a little time to recover from the previous night's activities.

Instead, I remember two sisters who were among the owners of the home repeatedly shouting at each other from different parts of the house.

"You should buy me pizza!"

"No, you should buy me pizza!"

They went back and forth about who should buy the other person pizza. I remember thinking it was such a silly argument. I could not understand why they were making such a fuss about pizza when we were all hungover. I also wondered why nobody seemed interested in offering me a glass of water or asking what I would like for breakfast.

It took me years to consider that perhaps the argument was an indirect hint that I should volunteer to buy pizza for everyone. I cannot know for certain whether that was their intention, but the possibility made me reflect on the assumptions people can make about someone they perceive as financially capable.

I had already paid for the cab. Nobody had asked whether I could afford another expense, suggested that we pool our money, or even considered that I might need something myself.

What stayed with me was not the pizza. It was the possibility that people could be comfortable expecting me to spend money on them without thinking to offer me something as simple as a glass of water.

They could imagine what I might provide for them, but they did not seem to consider what I might need from them.

That is a particularly painful form of entitlement because it turns your ability to give into an assumption that you have nothing to receive.

When the version of you who gave freely becomes the version everyone expects

I have encountered a similar dynamic in my coaching business.

One of my former clients had worked with me when I charged Ksh 10,000 for my 12-session Firstborn Daughter healing program. Over time, as I gained more experience, developed my expertise, and took on new responsibilities, including motherhood, I increased the price to Ksh 15,000.

When this former client wanted to work with me again, she expressed disappointment about the new fee. She felt it was too expensive and suggested that I had become too focused on money.

During our conversations, she also shared personal challenges and sought advice through messages. Initially, she indicated that she would pay for the support. Eventually, she explained that she could not afford it and simply needed someone to talk to.

I understood her situation and compassionately offered her one free session. However, she wanted the conversations to continue beyond that session, through ongoing messages. I explained that deeper discussions and continued coaching support needed to happen within paid sessions.

She was disappointed. At one point, she suggested that I had become like everyone else and was too focused on money.

I understood that she was struggling, but I also had to acknowledge my own circumstances. I was a mother, a business owner, and a woman whose responsibilities and needs had changed. My time, expertise, and emotional labour had value, even when someone could no longer afford to access them.

My previous fees were not a lifelong promise to charge the same amount. My earlier generosity was genuine, but that did not mean I had surrendered my right to change.

Sometimes, people become so accustomed to what you once gave freely that they struggle to recognize your right to change the terms of your generosity.

Someone can genuinely need your help and still be inconsiderate of you. Their difficult circumstances deserve compassion, but they do not erase your circumstances or make your boundaries unreasonable.

You can care about someone without becoming permanently responsible for meeting their needs.

### When people remember you because they need something

I once had a best friend in high school. Our friendship eventually fell apart, and we went more than twenty years without having a meaningful relationship.

In the years that followed, I built a career, started a business, published books, and began sharing my work and experiences online. My life evolved, and the person I became was no longer the person my former friend had known all those years ago.

At some point, she reached out to ask me for financial assistance.

There is nothing inherently wrong with asking someone for help. People go through difficult seasons, and sometimes they reach out to people they once knew and trusted. I understand that.

What made me reflect on the situation was the gap between the connection we once had and the connection we actually had in the present.

We had not spent years nurturing a friendship. We had not been showing up for one another through life's different seasons. We had not been rebuilding the relationship, learning about each other's lives, or establishing the kind of connection in which support could flow naturally.

Yet the history we once shared seemed to make asking me for financial help feel possible.

I wondered what it might have looked like if the approach had been different. Perhaps she could have reached out to ask how I was doing, how my family was, and what had happened in the years since we last spoke. Perhaps we could have gradually reconnected. She could have shown genuine interest in what I was building, encouraged my work, or found other small ways to support me as I continued growing.

None of those things would have guaranteed that I would give her financial assistance. And she would not have needed to engage with my social media to prove that she cared. The point is much bigger than likes, comments, shares, or purchases.

It is about whether someone approaches you with an interest in having a genuine connection with you, or whether they approach you primarily because they want something specific from you.

Sometimes, people are comfortable being recipients of your growth without ever considering how they might contribute to it.

They see that you are doing well and assume you have something to spare. They remember the connection you once shared and treat it as a reason to expect support, without considering the years in which that connection was not nurtured.

They see the resources you might have, but not necessarily the responsibilities attached to them. They see your apparent success, but not the work, sacrifices, uncertainty, and financial decisions behind it.

And this is where the line between asking for help and exploiting a connection can become thin.

You can ask someone for help without being exploitative. But when you approach people primarily through what you believe they owe you, without any genuine interest in their well-being or consideration for their circumstances, you risk reducing them to what they can provide.

### Your growth does not make you a public resource

One of the most difficult things about becoming more established in life is realizing that some people will interpret your growth as an expansion of their access to you.

They may see your business growing, your family building a life, or your work gaining visibility and assume that you now have more to give. They might not see the bills, the responsibilities, the risks you are taking, or the things you are trying to build for your own future.

And because they perceive you as capable, they may assume you do not need support.

This is particularly familiar to many firstborn daughters. You become the person who knows what to do, the person who can solve a problem, the person who finds a way when everyone else seems stuck. You learn to function under pressure, and people become accustomed to your ability to manage.

Eventually, your competence can make your needs invisible.

People may forget that you, too, need encouragement. You need someone to ask how you are doing and genuinely listen to the answer. You need people who celebrate your progress without immediately turning it into an opportunity to ask for something. You need relationships in which your life matters even when you have nothing to offer.

You also have financial goals, family responsibilities, and dreams that require resources. Money you give away may be money you needed to invest in your business, save for your child, or use to create a more secure future for your family.

You do not have to exhaust yourself proving that you are generous. You do not have to disclose your financial struggles to justify saying no. And you do not have to sacrifice your own progress simply because someone else has a need.

You can have resources without becoming everyone's resource.

Your success does not cancel your right to boundaries. Your generosity does not make you permanently available. And your ability to help someone does not automatically make helping them your responsibility.

### Motherhood taught me that I need a community, not just people who need me

Motherhood has made me appreciate the importance of having people who show up for you in practical, ordinary ways.

Sometimes, the security guard in my building helps me carry my daughter's stroller up the stairs when I am alone with her or have too many bags. Sometimes, he helps me navigate a practical problem that I cannot easily resolve by myself.

My house help has also noticed moments when I am overwhelmed, balancing work and caring for my daughter. Sometimes, she offers an extra hand with the baby or helps with something beyond what I expected. When I have extra food, I sometimes share it with her.

These interactions remind me that community is not always built through grand gestures. Sometimes, it is built through small acts of consideration that make another person's day a little easier.

I have also become more conscious of the people around me. The woman at the market working hard to provide for her children. The neighbour navigating a difficult season. The person outside the supermarket who might benefit from a little help.

When I have something extra to give, sometimes I share it. Not because these people owe me anything, but because I recognize that we are all navigating life, and I want to contribute to the community around me in the ways I can.

During my own postpartum season, people cooked for me so that I could rest. People visited when I needed company. People showed up during difficult days and celebrated milestones with me.

I did not get through that season by being endlessly capable. I got through it, in part, because other people were willing to show up.

And that is the kind of generosity I want to continue practising: generosity that recognizes people as human beings, not just as opportunities to give or receive.

I do not want to become cold because some people have taken my generosity for granted. I want to keep caring, keep helping, and keep contributing to the lives of people around me.

But I also want to be intentional about where my resources go, how I spend my time, and which relationships I continue to nurture.

Because there is a difference between giving freely and being expected to give indefinitely.

### You cannot draw from a well you never watered and expect it to be full

I also believe we need to recognize that being in survival mode can make us forget that other people have struggles, too. When you are going through a difficult season, it can be tempting to look at someone who appears to be doing well and assume they have the capacity to help you. You might reach out to someone you have not spoken to in years and feel entitled to their support because you once shared a connection.

But you do not know the full story of another person's life. They do not have to lay their hearts bare, disclose their private struggles, or prove that they are struggling for you to consider their circumstances.

I am currently in a season of enjoying the friendships and connections I have built over time. I am grateful for the people who have shown up for me, supported me through different seasons, and allowed me to show up for them, too. I am learning to appreciate the community I have already built. So when someone who has not been present in my life suddenly approaches me with expectations of what I should do for them, I cannot help but wonder: where was this consideration when I needed support, too?

Community is not about being entitled to what another person has. It is about building connections where people consider one another, respect each other's circumstances, and find ways to show up when they can.

You can need help without assuming someone owes it to you. You can recognize that someone is doing well without assuming they have nothing left to struggle with. And you can ask for support without treating another person's resources as something you are entitled to access.

A genuine community allows people to give and receive through different seasons of life. Sometimes one person has more to offer; sometimes another does. Sometimes all you can offer is a listening ear, an encouraging word, or a little practical help. Sometimes you are the one who needs someone to step in.

The goal is not to keep a tally of every favour or make generosity transactional. It is to cultivate relationships in which people care about one another's well-being, rather than being invested exclusively in what they can receive.

Because if you only remember people when you need something from them, if you expect them to remain invested in your well-being while showing little interest in theirs, you risk exploiting the very community you expect to support you.

Your difficult circumstances may explain why you need help. They do not automatically entitle you to another person's money, time, or emotional labour.

And this is why I believe it is so important to build relationships before we need them. Not as a strategy for securing future favours, but because genuine connection gives us the opportunity to know one another beyond our moments of need.

You cannot expect a relationship to provide the care of a community you have never made an effort to build.

### I refuse to volunteer for exploitation just to be considered a good woman

For a long time, I believed that being a good person meant being available. Being understanding. Finding a way to help, even when helping came at my own expense.

As a firstborn daughter, I know how easy it is to become attached to the identity of being the dependable one. You want to be generous. You want to be compassionate. You want to be someone people can count on.

But I have learned that being dependable does not mean being endlessly accessible. Compassion does not require self-abandonment. And generosity does not mean ignoring the difference between someone who genuinely values you and someone who primarily values what you can do for them.

I can be understanding of another person's struggles without making myself responsible for solving them. I can acknowledge someone's need without agreeing to meet it. I can appreciate the history I share with someone without pretending that history automatically creates a present-day relationship.

Most importantly, I can continue being generous without making my generosity available to everyone who asks for it.

I want to be part of a community where we consider one another. Where we can celebrate each other's growth without feeling entitled to the fruits of someone else's labour. Where we ask for help with humility, offer help with compassion, and respect one another when the answer is no.

I want relationships in which people see me as more than a coach, a business owner, a financially capable person, or a firstborn daughter who has always figured things out.

I want to be seen as a whole person. Someone who has needs, responsibilities, dreams, limitations, and seasons when she, too, needs to be held.

And I want other people to experience that kind of consideration through me, too.

Because the truth is, you can be generous without becoming someone's safety net, compassionate without becoming someone's obligation, and successful without becoming everyone's solution.

You do not have to abandon your generosity to protect yourself from exploitation.

You simply have to stop abandoning yourself in the name of generosity.