Men have done it for centuries: Why women should share financial advice and the mistakes they’ve made with one another
When it came to buying my first house, I was basically going in blind. I knew nothing about finances. I didn’t understand anything the mortgage broker was telling me. And I was trying to translate a language I’d never spoken before — or even heard.
It was 2006, just before the housing crisis. And the broker was trying to convince me to sign off on an adjustable rate mortgage. Yes, the exact loan that caused so many to lose their homes and much of what they had built.
He rubbed me the wrong way because he was pushy, and my spidey senses told me he was trying to take advantage of me. My husband at the time, an immigrant and one of the first in his family to buy a home, felt the same. This gut feeling made him dig deeper, asking questions that made the broker look uncomfortable. We didn’t know exactly what was going on; we just knew we didn’t like the way he was interacting with us.
In 2008, when many lost everything, we recognized that could have been us too. Because if our broker had been a better salesman, we would’ve been right there with so many other Americans. Honestly, it wasn’t any sort of financial literacy that made us pick a different type of mortgage. It was luck.
Fast forward to my maternity leave in 2011. I had a little bit of money and an inability to sit still. So while my newborn slept, I decided to dabble in the stock market.
I really had no clue what I was doing. I’d gained some financial literacy over the years but I certainly wasn’t fluent. My girlfriends and I didn’t talk about money. And we’d never given each other financial advice, even though most of us had thriving careers. So I when researched what stock to buy, I did so based on my successful brand-building experience, which takes an understanding of human nature coupled with a good sense of logic and intuition. Essentially, before buying a stock, I would ask a few simple questions: How clear was their message? Did they have a unique value proposition? And did I believe them? I bought Workday, Splunk, Tesla, Intuit, Facebook and a few others all below $50. And, because I didn’t understand the tenants of selling stock at the time (and it scared me), I kept them all for many years. Most of them soared over $120, and at one point Tesla was over $300. Again, I got lucky.
In 2018, after years of helping many brands succeed — from StubHub to Ferrari and many more — I started two businesses that quickly grew over a million in revenue. My success made me a bit nervous, and I felt I could no longer afford to let financial luck be an excuse. While I could speak finance better at this point, I still wasn’t as articulate or eloquent as I would have liked. So I decided to talk finances with whom ever was willing to listen and engage. And most of the time, it was men.
Men weren’t thrown off by me asking to talk finances. They spoke freely about money. Not only were they much more comfortable talking about the details, they were also extremely fluent.
After countless productive conversations, I decided to ask why they were so comfortable talking about money with me. Most were perplexed and said things like, “Why wouldn’t I?” Or “Well, I really like you and you’ve helped me before.”
As I dug deeper, what I discovered is that they’ve been speaking money since grade school with their fathers. They talked with their male friends during college. And as they carved out successful careers, they talked about money with their male colleagues and cohorts. They had no problem talking about money with each other — especially how to make it, and the worst ways to lose it. They spoke from personal experience, they shared experiences, and they eagerly passed down knowledge to one another.
I was surprised how openly men spoke about things I was always taught were intimate, rude to ask, and none of my business. I hadn’t had these type of conversations with some of my most successful women friends, because I always thought it was taboo to talk about money. Why did I feel that way? Why did I feel it was shameful to share my mistakes? Why did I believe it was somehow more polite to hide my own successes?
The answer was clear. I was born in the late ’70s, and the ’90s weren’t too kind to young adult women. We’re talking about the era of Bill Clinton and Anita Hill, where the news media blamed women for being in the wrong place, wearing the wrong clothes, or doing the wrong things. Conversations about sexual harassment or equal rights or pay were often hushed, or swept under the rug completely. Shows and ads depicted that men made the money and women spent it. And elders taught their daughters that asking about personal finances was just plain rude.
As I reflected on these sexist financial realities, I had a few very clear memories of my own. I remembered in college when I realized I was being significantly underpaid as a summer lifeguard. I was the only female lifeguard at the time, and my male counterpart and friend openly shared what he was making. When I brought it up to my male boss, he quietly provided backpay saying it was a clerical error and not to share this with others.
In the early 2000s, I was often told to look cute and speak less. I specifically recall the CEO of my ad agency telling me that the recommendations I made sounded better coming from my male counterpart.
In the mid-2000s, another male boss once mentioned in an executive meeting — where I was the only mother at the table — that teen suicide rates were correlated with working mothers who were too ambitious to pay attention to their kids. This same boss also printed out a list of things he didn’t like about me and handed it to me fresh off the printer. One of the reasons? That I asked too many questions.
Until that point, I had always believed I was just really lucky to be where I was, not that I deserved to be there. I often told myself, “Better not rock the boat. Better not do anything taboo. Better not ask any questions that may be considered inappropriate.”
But I know much better now. I know that the more we speak up and share our own experiences, the more we learn and the faster we can succeed. Together.
The men I spoke with over the last few years didn’t consider financial matters to be some sort of intimate secret. They shared actual numbers, the mistakes they made, and the successes too. Many told me that if they were making money or if they saw an opportunity to make more, they would share this information with the men in their lives they trusted most. If they made a mistake, they would spread the word to their male community far and wide.
What if I’d had these conversations with women when I was younger? How would we have collectively benefited like so many men have?
I decided it wasn’t too late. And when my friends brought up new job opportunities or asked about my businesses, I consciously talked about finances openly. And it felt totally natural. Best of all, we’d both walk away having learned something. Many times, these conversations happened at The Wing in SF, an all women’s social club and co-working space surrounded by other empowered women where it felt safe and easy to talk about something we’d once considered so difficult.
I wholeheartedly believe that women have to help each other out, like our male counterparts have been doing for centuries. If we want to continue thriving as individuals, it’s our collective responsibility to:
- Talk to other women about finances. This improves our financial literacy, helps prepare us in making wiser financial choices, and may lead us to the financial advisors we want to work with.
- Share our mistakes and successes. Sharing our lessons can propel or even change another woman’s life.
- Take pride in our financial literacy. My proudest moment was when my mother (who has owned her own business) came to me asking for advice.
- Be open-minded. Experience matters, but we can learn a lot from a younger woman who has made a brave choice.
- Engage men. The more open we are in talking with them about finances, the more likely they’ll talk to the next woman in need of advice.
Anything I missed? I’m all financial ears.
