Black Tax and African Workers’ Family Responsibility

Published: 24 January 2026. The English Chronicle Desk. The English Chronicle Online

Across Africa and its far-flung diaspora, the soft ping of a mobile notification from a remittance app can instantly change the mood of a day. For millions of workers, that alert is not just about money leaving an account; it represents responsibility, sacrifice and, often, quiet pride. From Dakar to Johannesburg, Nairobi to London, sending money home has become an expected part of success. This obligation, widely known as the “black tax”, reflects a deep-rooted culture of collective survival, where the achievements of one person become a lifeline for many others.

The term “black tax” is commonly used to describe the financial responsibility placed on relatively successful individuals to support extended family members. While the phrase can sound harsh, many who shoulder this burden describe it as a mix of pressure and honour. In societies where social security systems are weak or overstretched, family support often fills the gap left by the state. For salaried workers, entrepreneurs and migrants alike, this informal safety net can absorb a significant share of income.

In Nigeria’s economic hub of Lagos, surveys conducted last year showed that salaried workers, on average, send about 20% of their monthly wages to relatives. In South Africa, where unemployment remains stubbornly high at more than 42%, research by the Pietermaritzburg Economic Justice & Dignity Group suggests that a single wage often supports nearly four people. In Kenya, studies have shown that constant family demands can even limit business growth, as entrepreneurs hesitate to reinvest profits that may be urgently needed at home.

Beyond the continent, remittances from Africans in the diaspora have become a pillar of household survival and national economies. According to the African Development Bank, Africans abroad sent home about $100bn in 2022, surpassing both foreign aid and direct investment. These funds pay for essentials such as rent, food, healthcare and school fees, but they also finance dreams of education, migration and a more secure future for the next generation.

For many, the pressure begins early. Well-educated young professionals often aim for high-earning careers not only for personal advancement, but to lift entire families out of poverty. The hope is that by sacrificing now, future generations will not face the same struggles.

Anthony Kimere, a Kenyan who left home 36 years ago, embodies this long-term commitment. After studying and working in Italy, Germany and Denmark, he eventually settled in the UK, where he now drives buses for Transport for London. Over decades, he has supported grandparents, paid school fees for cousins and helped cover medical bills for numerous relatives back in Kenya. While many requests are direct, Kimere says the deeper motivation comes from a sense of obligation shaped by shared experience.

“You feel obligated to give back because you know the situation,” said the 55-year-old, who grew up in Timau in central Kenya. Having lived through economic hardship himself, he understands the challenges his family continues to face. He admits that the responsibility can strain his own finances, especially with a large extended family, but adds that turning away is rarely an option. For him, support is not charity; it is continuity.

A similar sense of duty drives Fungai Mangwanya, a 35-year-old data analyst from Zimbabwe. Growing up amid hyperinflation and economic collapse, he watched his grandmother struggle to provide for him despite a lifetime spent working in education. Her pension, eroded by economic instability, was barely enough to cover basic bills. Those experiences pushed Mangwanya to pursue a high-earning career and eventually relocate to the UK with his wife in 2022.

While his grandmother and his wife’s uncle, who raised her, both died last year, Mangwanya continues to support other relatives, including an aunt, a brother and a cousin at university. Beyond immediate obligations, he and his wife are focused on building wealth for the children they hope to have. For him, success is measured by freedom: the ability for future generations to choose education and careers without fear of hunger or insecurity.

In South Africa, where historical inequality still shapes economic realities, the black tax carries its own weight. Mpho Hlefana, a 37-year-old marketing executive, reached her career goal of running a department before turning 40. Yet financial anxiety remains a constant presence in her life. Growing up in Soshanguve, a former black-only township near Pretoria, she watched her parents make sacrifices to secure good schooling for their children. Education was the family’s escape route from poverty.

Although democracy opened new doors after apartheid ended in 1994, inequality persists. Official data from 2023 shows that average white household income remains nearly five times higher than that of black households. For professionals like Hlefana, success often comes with expectations to support relatives who are still locked out of opportunity. Now separated from the father of her children, she is determined to keep building wealth so her daughters can start adulthood with assets rather than debt. Her ambition is not excess, but security.

Across West Africa and the diaspora, the black tax is also shaped by global policy decisions. Some European countries already tax remittances, and in the United States a new 1% remittance tax recently came into force. For many migrants, such measures feel disconnected from the realities on the ground.

Eguono Lucia Edafioka, a Nigerian doctoral student at Vanderbilt University, says remittances are rarely about luxury. They are about survival. When money is needed for food, medicine or the care of ageing parents, she argues, there is little room for debate. Even small additional taxes, experts warn, can disproportionately affect lower-income migrants who already face high transfer fees.

Abednego Kwame, a Ghanaian management consultant living in New Jersey, says he has learned to budget carefully. Since moving from Accra, he has become a primary source of support for his parents and younger sister, along with occasional help for relatives and friends coping with rising living costs back home. While he is conscious of the new US tax, he does not expect it to strain family relationships. Adjustments, he believes, will be absorbed quietly, just as so many other sacrifices have been.

Despite the pressure, many African workers reject the idea that the black tax is purely a burden. For them, it is also a marker of success and belonging. Sending money home confirms that they have not forgotten where they came from, and that progress is shared rather than individual. Yet the emotional and financial toll is real, especially as global inflation, migration costs and taxation add new layers of strain.

As African economies evolve and diasporas expand, debates around the black tax are likely to intensify. Some argue for stronger state welfare systems to reduce dependence on family transfers, while others see collective responsibility as a cultural strength rather than a weakness. For now, millions continue to balance pride and pressure, carrying not just their own ambitions, but the hopes of entire families, one remittance at a time.