Okay let's talk money

In pursuit of that vision, I’ve spent nearly a decade in service: grassroots activism, community health work, and mental health support. None of that was accidental. I’ve been building toward something. Intentionally stacking experience, relationships, and structure so that impact isn’t just possible…

it’s sustainable.

At this point, I know I have the knowledge, the tools, the network, and the infrastructure to create consistent and meaningful impact in Baltimore and beyond, in a way that is both valued and respected.

But there’s a tension here.

I think back to a moment that stuck with me. I was listening to a conversation led by Brother Ben on Clubhouse( back when everybody was on there = ) . He was calling for a lawyer to step in and support people who were literally fighting for their freedom in court.

And the response?

Not only unwilling, but dismissive. What stood out wasn’t just the “no.” It was the underlying message: that the time, energy, and labor of people serving the community, often for free or for very little, was somehow less valuable.

That moment sharpened something in me.

Because if we’re being honest, a lot of the systems we rely on are held up by underpaid or unpaid labor. People doing essential work, filling critical gaps, and still struggling to sustain themselves.

That’s not sustainable. And it’s not fair.

So my commitment didn’t just stay rooted in serviceit expanded into economics. How do we serve and sustain? How do we build systems where the people doing the work can actually live well?

That’s when I started thinking deeper about circulation.

I came across that widely repeated idea that money circulates 13 times in the Jewish community versus once in the Black community. Now, turns out that’s not entirely accurate. It’s more hyperbole than hard data.

But the principle behind it?

Still powerful. Because whether it’s 13 times, 5 times, or 3 times… the question remains the same:

How long does money stay in our hands before it leaves?

That question led me to start mapping out what intentional circulation could actually look like in real life.

Let’s make it concrete.

1. I earn $150 providing a service to a Blackowned business.

2. I put $100 of that with two other brothers to make a play—we each get back $150 ($50 profit).

3. I spend $35 of that profit on a haircut from my barber.

4. My barber pays me $10 to give him a ride.

5. While we’re out, we leave $20 in tips to a Black cashier.

6. The cashier uses that $20 to grab food from a local restaurant.

7. The restaurant owner rolls that into their daily earnings and pays a supplier.

8. The supplier, after collecting from multiple clients, gives his partner $100 for a night out.

9. She spends $50 getting her makeup done.

10. The artist uses $20 of that to give her son an allowance.

11. He saves for two weeks and buys a ticket to see his favorite artist.

12. The artist uses that revenue to book a studio session.

13. The studio hires a designer, like me, for $150.

Full circle.

Same money. Multiple lives touched. Value exchanged over and over again.

And the key point?

This is not farfetched.

This is everyday life

with just a little intention applied.

Now let’s zoom out.

If each one of those steps had happened outside the network, that same group of people would still be spending money, but the value would leak out at every stage.

Instead of one $150 generating 13 exchanges of value within the community, You’d have 13 separate instances of money leaving it. That’s the difference.

circulation vs leakage

building vs bleeding

And this is where it gets interesting. Money, at its core, is just a tool. It was created to simplify complex value exchanges. Instead of bartering skills directly, we use currency as a placeholder. But what we often forget is:

The real asset isn’t the money, it’s the network of skills behind it. When we keep transactions internal, we’re not just saving money.

We’re:

strengthening relationships

increasing trust

creating repeat opportunities

and building economic density

Now take it one level higher.

This isn’t just an individual practice. It’s a community strategy. When groups of people, businesses, and creatives start coordinating how they spend, hire, invest, and collaborate. You don’t just circulate money.

You compound capacity.

You create an environment where:

a designer doesn’t need to look outside for clients

a business owner doesn’t need to outsource basic services

a creative can fund their next project from within the ecosystem

And that’s where sustainability starts to show up.

Because now we’re not just sharing dollars, we’re aligning skills.

And when you align skills effectively, you can actually start to pull new money into the network, not just recycle what’s already there.

That’s the real goal. Not isolation. Not exclusion. But positioning.

Building something strong enough internally that when external money comes in, it doesn’t just pass through, it lands, circulates, and multiplies.

This is what I believe we’re supposed to be doing. Not just working. Not just earning. But designing systems of exchange that allow us to live, serve, and grow, at the same time.

This is where your piece really starts to separate itself, because now you’re not just explaining a concept, you’re exposing the friction that comes with actually living it.

Let me carry your voice forward and sharpen the argument without losing that rawness:

And this is where things start to get real for me.

Because as simple as all of this sounds in theory; In practice, I’ve run into a different kind of resistance. Not from outside, but from within the very environments I’m trying to build with.

It has genuinely frustrated me at times to be chastised for spending money within my own circle. Some people look at that and call it favoritism. Others call it bias. Some even frame it as a lack of professionalism.

And in my head, I’m like

“Wait… I thought the whole point was to get it cycling?”

If I trust the people around me…

If I know their work is solid…

If I’ve seen their consistency…

Why wouldn’t I keep that exchange internal? That’s not corruption. That’s coordination. That’s not favoritism. That’s intentional circulation. Because the alternative is what?

We all go outside for everything…

And then wonder why nothing ever builds inside?

Another layer of frustration came from something I didn’t even have language for at first. Being judged as a “money courier.”

Let me explain.

Say I earn $100 for a service, and I use that to pay a bill. Separately, someone hands me $100 to go pick something up for them. I make the purchase, bring it back, transaction done. From the outside, someone might look and think:

“Hold on—didn’t I just give him $100? Why is he spending it like that?”

But what they’re missing is simple:

Money is fluid. There’s no label on a dollar that says where it came from or where it’s supposed to go. The $100 I earned and the $100 I was entrusted with can move through my hands at the same time, but they serve completely different purposes.

And when people start trying to track their specific dollar after it leaves their hand. What they’re really revealing is a lack of trust in the system, and sometimes, in me.

That’s a problem. Because none of this works without trust. And then there’s the deepest tension of all. I am going to serve the community, regardless. Even if it means putting myself last at times.

There have been months where I’ve effectively invested $400 or more directly into community support, knowing full well I might not see that money immediately.

And I was okay with that, because I understand cycles.

I understand timing. I understand that value returns, if the system is real.

But here’s where the disconnect happens:

When that “future” moment comes when support flows back in and I need to use a portion of that to stabilize myself, now it’s looked at sideways and it feels like:

“Why are you taking from this?”

“Shouldn’t that all go back out?”

As if I’m expected to pour endlessly. All of what I have and all of what comes in without ever retaining anything for myself. That doesn’t work. It’s not sustainable. And more importantly, it’s not honest. The reality is, I’ve already done the math.

I know what it takes for me to live:

$600/month at my lowest functional level

$3,000/month at a level that actually feels like living, not surviving

So yes, when money comes in, part of that is me stabilizing my base. Not as an afterthought, but as a requirement. Because if I’m not stable, the work isn’t stable. So I had to get clear on my model. Strip it down. Make it make sense, not just to others, but to myself.

And it really comes down to two things:

1. Deliver measurable value to the community

Not vague impact. Not feel good language. Clear, trackable, visible value tied directly to the needs and desires of the people being served. And that starts with actually doing the work. Executing needs assessments, listening before building, and showing results people can point to

You won’t have to guess what I’m doing. You’ll see it.

2. Secure a sustainable base for myself

Not excess. Not exploitation.

Minimum viable stability.

Ideally supported by the same community that benefits from the work, because that creates alignment.Anything above that baseline becomes performance based. Bonuses tied to:

increased impact

expanded reach

deeper service

stronger systems

So now it’s not:

“Why are you getting paid?”

It becomes:

“The more value created, the more value returned.”

That’s the model.

That’s the balance.

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t just about circulating money.

It’s about correcting a mindset.

Moving from:

scarcity → to stewardship

suspicion → to trust

extraction → to exchange

And most importantly

Building a reality where the people doing the work

can actually afford to keep doing it.