You know the hook of the famous O’Jays song. If you don’t know who the O’Jays are, lol… Google them. But seriously, “Money, money, money… MONEY!” has never felt more relevant. Unfortunately, that’s what’s on everyone’s mind these days—whether you’re wealthy, financially stable, or living paycheck to paycheck. From city halls to kitchen tables, the same question echoes: how will we afford what’s next?
Governments, schools, and businesses struggle to finalize budgets for the upcoming fiscal year. Seniors are nervously watching the rising costs of health care and wondering whether Social Security will be enough to cover basic needs. Families are weighing up the possibility of a summer vacation against rising rents, basic needs, child care, utility bills, and gas prices. Individuals nearing retirement age are watching their retirement accounts and wondering if they’ll ever be able to retire on time.
But for victims and survivors of domestic violence, money or the lack of it often determines whether they can escape abuse or remain trapped. For them, financial insecurity isn’t just a stressor, but a barrier to safety, freedom, and survival.
We don’t talk enough about the role money plays in domestic violence. We may think of abuse in terms of bruises and broken bones, but financial abuse is often at the root. It can look like a partner controlling access to bank accounts, running up debt in the survivor’s name, sabotaging job opportunities, or refusing to contribute to household expenses. Financial abuse occurs in nearly 99% of domestic violence cases.
It’s no surprise that many survivors simply don’t leave because they can’t afford to. They often have no access to cash, no savings to rely on, no credit history, and no safety net. In a country where nearly half of Americans would struggle to cover a $400 emergency expense, this kind of financial precarity is all too common.
This isn’t just a personal problem, it’s a systemic one. Survivors are told to “just leave,” but where do you go when shelters are full, housing is unaffordable, and job training programs that support survivors are underfunded or nonexistent? We cannot expect survivors to rebuild their lives on hope alone. They need concrete tools, supportive policies, and tangible resources.
That’s why financial literacy, while often overlooked, is more critical than ever. It can be life-changing, even lifesaving. Understanding budgeting, credit, debt management, and how to access temporary public benefits can empower survivors to make informed decisions and reclaim their independence. However, financial education must be paired with access. Knowledge alone isn’t enough if the systems remain broken.
Imagine trying to start over after leaving an abusive partner. You need housing, income, childcare, legal aid, transportation, and emotional support. Imagine doing all that while trying to heal from trauma, with no money, no job, and no one to call. For many survivors, this is the daily reality.
In my work with domestic violence survivors, I’ve seen firsthand the transformative impact of financial empowerment. I’ve seen survivors open their first bank accounts, learn how to build credit, apply for jobs, and budget for their children’s futures. These moments are often small and quiet, but they are powerful. They mark the shift from surviving to thriving.
But survivors shouldn’t have to do this work alone. We must invest in programs supporting long-term stability: trauma-informed financial coaching, matched savings accounts, access to higher education and workforce development programs, and guaranteed income pilots that give survivors a real shot at independence.
One notable example is the Allstate Foundation’s commitment to financial empowerment for survivors. Since 2005, their initiatives have invested over $90 million in programs that help survivors achieve financial independence. They provide vital resources like the Moving Ahead Curriculum, which offers practical financial education to help survivors rebuild their lives.
And it’s not just survivors who benefit. Financial literacy is a crucial skill for everyone, especially young people. With growing student debt, rising housing costs, and increasing economic uncertainty in today’s economy, essential money management should be a core requirement in every middle and high school curriculum. We teach students how to solve algebraic equations, but not how to create a budget, check their credit score, or plan for unexpected expenses. That gap leaves too many people vulnerable to predatory lending, credit card debt, and financial instability risks that compound for those already navigating economic hardship or abuse.
We also need to change how we talk about money. Right now, shame surrounds poverty. People are blamed for not having enough, instead of questioning why systems were designed to prevent them from succeeding. For survivors, that shame is doubled: they are blamed for staying in dangerous situations and then blamed again for the financial fallout of leaving.
If we genuinely want to support survivors—and all those struggling in today’s economy—we must build a society where financial health is not a luxury, but a right. That means raising wages, ensuring access to affordable housing, and creating public policies that treat caregiving, healing, and rebuilding as valuable work.
This moment of financial uncertainty offers an opportunity. As we each examine our own budgets, futures, and financial decisions, we must also discuss how we can support those whose financial futures have been shaped by violence, control, and systemic neglect.
So, how do we do that? We talk about money, not just wealth building, but survival. We demand that financial education be trauma-informed and accessible to those who need it most. We invest in the future of survivors not just with our words, but with our budgets.
And we remember that no one should have to choose between safety and poverty.