Beyond Individual Wealth: Remembering Collective Practices Like the Susu

Money can feel like an individual or solo endeavour.  

But what would it look like if money wasn't something we navigated alone? What about inheritances and the practices that have been passed down that celebrate collective practices?

In this part of the world, the way we talk about money tends to be deeply individual — your salary, your savings, your financial goals, your net worth.  And I think what that does is encourage us all to figure it out alone rather than leaning into the ecosystems around us.

So, what happens to our money stories when we start including collective practices?

The Origin Story of the Susu: An old banking practice

From my research, I understand that the word susu comes from the Yoruba language of Nigeria and means to save money little by little. Susu comes from the Yoruba word esusu. The practice itself is believed to have originated in West Africa over 500 years ago — long before banks, credit cards, or the financial systems most of us navigate today.

The idea is simple: a group of people pool money together every month. Say six people each contribute $100. That's a $600 monthly pool. Each person receives a hand based on their level of need, with the understanding that they contribute their share for all the other months too.

What's remarkable is how far this practice traveled. From West Africa, the susu moved with the African diaspora to the Caribbean — where it's called partner in Jamaica and sou-Sou in Trinidad and la main in Haiti — and spread across South America, Asia, and immigrant communities across North America. Different names. Different communities. The same essential idea: people helping people save, little by little, together.

The susu didn't just survive. It crossed oceans. That tells you something about how much it was needed — and how much it worked.

I Grew Up Around It. And Never Joined.

My aunties, uncles, and grandparents participated in susus for as long as I can remember. And yet I never joined one.

For a long time I told myself it was about the practicalities — I had questions about interest, about how it all worked. But when I sit with it more honestly, I think the real reason was something else entirely: I didn't trust myself to navigate conversations about money within the context of family dynamics.

That's a different thing from saying the trust wasn't there. It's more vulnerable than that. It's about not feeling equipped to speak up if something went wrong. Not knowing how to hold my ground without damaging a relationship. Not being sure I could stay at the table if things got complicated.

And money within families does get complicated. It carries history. It carries old stories about who is responsible and who is not, who is generous and who is not, who can be counted on and who can't. Bringing money into those dynamics requires a kind of emotional fluency that, honestly, I was still developing.

What It Actually Takes to Be in Community

Here is what I've been sitting with lately: being in relationship with people — even family, especially family — requires vulnerability. And nowhere is that more true than around money.

What happens when someone misses a contribution? What happens when feelings get hurt and no one says anything? What happens when we mess up — because we will mess up — and have to find our way back to each other?

I don't have easy answers to those questions. But I think the practice of community money is also a practice of communication, repair, and trust-building. We build trust by showing up. By trying. By making mistakes and coming back to the table anyway. By learning how to say that hurt and I'm sorry and I still want to be in this with you.

The susu, at its best, isn't just a financial tool. It's a relational one.

What I'm Building Toward

That principle — that going little by little can end up being a lot, that sharing is possible even when resources are tight — is part of what inspired me to take a portion of the money from the Liberated Rhythms membership and to attempt to create a rest fund. A small collective act of care, built slowly and intentionally.

When I think about the money culture I want to participate in and build, sharing is at the centre. Not because it's easy. But because I've seen what's possible when people decide to pool their resources — financial, emotional, relational — and move together.

I may not have joined the susu. But I carry what it taught me. And maybe that's enough — to take what you've known, what was practiced before you, and make something from it that fits the life you're actually living. It won't look the same. But it can be rooted in the same legacy. The same values. The same belief that we can be in it together and that we can get further if we join forces.

If this resonated and you're curious about what it might look like to explore your own money story, I'd love to connect. Book a free 15 minute consult and let's talk.

And if you want more reflections like this one, join my monthly newsletter Reclaiming Mondays — stories and reflections on living in rhythm with your body as we explore money, its histories, and the legacies we're rewriting.