When I was just 7 years old, my family fled Iran to escape an oppressive regime that offered little hope for personal freedom or safety. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the gravity of our departure. All I knew was that we were leaving behind familiarity for a future built on uncertainty. What none of us realized was the long and painful impact this journey would have on our lives.
My parents were successful professionals back home. But in America, their degrees and experience meant little. They faced a cruel reality: survival came first, dreams second. My father tried to rebuild our life from scratch, starting business after business with what little savings we brought. Each one failed. Our nest egg disappeared, and eventually, he found himself doing hard manual labor just to make ends meet.
My mother, despite her qualifications, couldn’t find any work at all. Over time, she lost her sense of purpose and, more painfully, her power in the relationship. She would often whisper to me —sometimes with urgency, sometimes through tears, “Always make your own money. No matter how much your husband makes. Whoever controls your money, controls you.”
I didn’t understand it then. But I would come to learn, in the most tragic way possible, just how right she was.
Because of her lack of financial independence, my mother felt forced to tolerate things that she wouldn’t have otherwise, especially my father’s infidelity. By 1995, his unfaithfulness became bold, even careless. He no longer tried to hide it, and the emotional weight crushed her. Depression set in like a storm. The medications she was prescribed dulled her pain, but they also dulled her spirit. Over time, she became unrecognizable, a shadow of the vibrant powerhouse I remembered.
Then came the worst day of my life. I couldn’t reach my mother. Something in me knew something was terribly wrong. I called the police for a welfare check. When they called me back, their words shattered my world. My mother had taken my father’s life, and then her own.
The grief was unbearable. But through the pain, one truth is crystallized: financial independence isn’t just about money. It’s about freedom, self-respect, safety, and the power to walk away when things turn toxic.
My mother didn’t have that freedom. I promised myself I would never live in the same kind of cage. And I promised to teach every woman I meet that financial independence is not optional, it’s essential.
More importantly, I’ve chosen to use my mother’s story as a catalyst for change. Her life and death will not be in vain. If I can help even one woman avoid the suffering she endured, then I will have honored her memory. This is how I keep her spirit alive — by empowering others to protect their futures.
This is also the reason I wrote my book, “Never Date A Broke Dude: The Financial Freedom Playbook.” It’s not just a guide — it’s a mission. A blueprint for women to take ownership of their financial lives, recognize red flags early, and never feel trapped in relationships because of money.
Five Financial Truths Every Woman Needs to Know
- Make Your Own Money: No matter how much your partner earns, always have your own source of income. It empowers you to make choices based on love, not necessity or fear.
- Have Separate Savings: Maintain a separate bank account in your name only. It’s not about secrecy, it’s about security. In an emergency, you’ll have a lifeline.
- Know the Red Flags: If your partner refuses to talk openly about money, controls all the finances, hides spending, or discourages you from working — these are red flags. Don’t ignore them.
- Educate Yourself Financially: Learn how to budget, invest and build credit. You don’t need to be a financial expert, but basic literacy can be your armor in hard times.
- Know What You Own: Be aware of every asset: what you own, what’s in your name (and what’s not), how much money you have, and where the accounts are. Keep copies of legal documents, property deeds, insurance policies, and tax returns. Ignorance is not bliss, it’s a vulnerability.
My story is painful, but it’s also a call to action. To every woman reading this: your financial independence could save your life one day. It’s not just about the dollars. It’s about dignity, choices, and the future you get to shape on your own terms. And through that strength, we honor those who came before us, even the ones who didn’t get the chance to do the same.
