For many Nigerian immigrants (or immigrants in general), leaving home to chase greener pastures is an act of courage, sacrifice, and deep-rooted hope. Whether it’s the U.S., U.K., Canada, or other parts of the world, the pursuit of better opportunities is almost always motivated by the desire to uplift not just oneself, but the entire family back home. But what happens when the weight of that responsibility becomes too heavy to bear? When you’re working two jobs in a foreign land just to keep things afloat, and yet the calls from home never stop?
It’s a reality many Nigerian immigrants silently grapple with: juggling high expectations, financial commitments, emotional stress, and a persistent sense of guilt.
From the moment a Nigerian immigrant lands abroad, a silent expectation is born. Suddenly, you’re no longer just Chidi, Bola, or Kemi; you’re “our person in America.” You become the fixer, the one who’s expected to send money home, pay for a sibling’s school fees, support aging parents, assist an uncle with his rent, or sponsor a cousin’s wedding. The assumption is simple: because you live abroad, you must have money.
In Nigerian culture, taking care of one’s extended family is seen as a duty. But when that cultural expectation is placed on one individual, especially someone trying to survive in a new country, it quickly becomes overwhelming.
In South Africa, they call it “black tax.” In Nigeria, we don’t always name it, but we feel it. It’s the unspoken, often obligatory financial support that Black people, especially those perceived to be successful, are expected to provide for their families. For Nigerian immigrants, black tax is a monthly reality. Even after paying their own bills, saving for emergencies, and maybe even dealing with student loans or childcare, they are still expected to “drop something” for family.
And saying no? That often earns you labels like “stingy,” “selfish,” or worse, “you’ve forgotten where you came from.”
What makes this even more difficult is the harsh economic reality in Nigeria. Inflation is high, unemployment is rampant, and many families are truly struggling to make ends meet. So when they reach out to their relatives abroad, it’s not always about entitlement; it’s often about survival. Unfortunately, for those living abroad, this becomes an emotional trap: how do you say no to people you love who are genuinely in need?
But here’s the truth: many Nigerian immigrants are not as financially comfortable as their families think. Living abroad is expensive. Rent is high, childcare costs are staggering, taxes eat deep into your paycheck, and navigating life as an immigrant comes with its own unique set of financial obligations.
Still, there’s a pressure to overperform, to “prove” that the decision to move abroad was worth it. And this pressure leads to a dangerous cycle of working longer hours, skipping rest, and neglecting one’s own mental and emotional health.
Financial stress doesn’t just affect your bank account; it takes a toll on your mind, body, and soul. Nigerian immigrants dealing with overwhelming financial responsibilities often report feelings of:
This level of emotional labor can eventually affect relationships, job performance, and physical health. The feeling of always being “on call” to save the day financially is a silent weight many carry, but don’t talk about.
Many Nigerian immigrants share stories of being reduced to nothing more than providers. The love feels transactional. Birthdays and family calls are often followed by requests for money. There’s little interest in how you’re doing emotionally, only in whether you’ve “sent the money.”
This leads to emotional isolation. It becomes difficult to have honest conversations about your struggles because you’re expected to always be strong. This culture of silence contributes to more mental health issues that are left unaddressed.
It’s important to understand that you are not alone in feeling this way. More importantly, it’s okay to acknowledge that this burden is affecting you.
Setting boundaries, especially with family, is one of the hardest things to do. However, it’s essential if you want to preserve your mental health. Here’s how to start:
If any part of this article resonated with you, you’re not alone. So many immigrants are silently struggling under the weight of financial expectations and emotional burnout. The good news is, you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.
JMore Counseling and Consulting offers culturally competent, professional therapy services tailored to the unique experiences of African and immigrant communities. Whether you’re dealing with financial stress, anxiety, guilt, or burnout, talking to someone who understands can make all the difference.
Don’t wait until you’re at your breaking point. Your peace of mind is just as important as your ability to provide.
