How To Tell If People Really Want Honesty, Part 1
How do you tell if people really want honesty or not? Here are a few tips, and some relief for when you get it wrong.
It’s not that long ago that I was on the receiving end of needing scholarships and handouts for just about anything and everything beyond basic survival. So I know what it’s like to desperately need something and not being able to afford it. It sucks.
And I was deeply resentful of people who had so much money it didn’t matter if they blew it on crap. And people who gained wealth by exploiting others.
So it matters to me deeply that the business I am building doesn’t contribute to that problem.
I am committed to furthering economic justice in my own way, to the extent I am able.
But my understanding of what economic justice is has also evolved as I’ve explored and challenged my own biases.
A lot of times when people talk about economic justice, what they mean is giving handouts to people with little money at the expense of people who are better able to take the financial hit.
And I have no problem with a Robin Hood system of pricing. In fact, most of my clients pay my full rate, which allows me to offer a sliding scale to some of my clients, and partial scholarships for some of my courses.
But when it’s simply a matter of rearranging money, I don’t think that’s seeing the full picture of economic justice, because the cash is only part of it.
I see money as nothing more or less than a stand-in for an easily tradable value that is being exchanged. I contribute something to you, and you contribute something to me, and we both walk away with something of value.
Take my burnout course, for example. You get information, skills, and techniques that could literally change significant aspects of your life. What’s the value of that?
I don’t know how to put a price on transformation, but I do know what it costs me to put on this course. It’s surprisingly expensive, and includes paying a fair wage to the people helping me, the hard costs of the technology I use to make the content available, paying my bills and supporting my family, and having a reasonable profit that makes it worthwhile to do this work without burning myself out. Because burnout is not an option.
When I’ve gotten straight-up scholarships and haven’t contributed any part of it, sure, a part of me was thrilled and relieved and grateful.
But a part of me was also resentful and shamed and angry at the system. And that wasn’t healthy. Those mixed emotions created the kind of cognitive dissonance that I’m trying to move away from in every part of my life.
And now that I’m on the other side, as a provider of services, I’ve also sometimes given more than I can really afford, and have grown resentful. And I’ve seen people take and take and complain when I didn’t give even more, and that’s felt awful.
So there needs to be an exchange of some kind that feels fair: a win-win where both parties walk away with something of value, and both parties contribute something of value.
That’s how to build healthy relationships. Even a business relationship, a learning relationship, a coaching relationship, is still a relationship. And both parties need to feel good about it for it to be a healthy relationship.
I know there are times when there simply isn’t money, and it’s not about priorities, or money mindset, or scarcity mentality. There just. isn’t. money.
So I’ve set up alternative options to cash, but there does need to be some kind of energetic exchange where we both get something of value.
That might look like helping spread the word about my courses, trading for a skill I need, or contributing what you can financially. It might be a mix of these.
Maybe you’re an artist, or have research skills, or know people who could genuinely benefit from the course. The point is—we’re creating something together, not just completing a transaction.
I want to move away from exploitative systems towards true economic justice. And for me, that means seeing the full humanity in every exchange. Yours and mine.
This approach is about healing relational wounds. It’s about rebuilding trust in economic systems by creating interactions where both parties feel respected, valued, and empowered.
The goal isn’t just to exchange a service, but to foster relationships where everyone walks away feeling good about the interaction—where the exchange itself becomes a form of personal and collective healing.
My business model is built on several key principles:
Every transaction should be a win-win, where both parties contribute something and receive something of meaningful worth.
Not everyone can contribute financially, but all can offer something valuable—whether it’s skills, time, research, or spreading the word about my services.
Pricing must cover my hard costs, support fair wages for my collaborators, and allow for reasonable profit that prevents burnout so I can continue this work long term.
I maintain a small scholarship fund, which is partially community-funded, allowing those who can afford it to help subsidize opportunities for others.
Also, I enjoy promoting the services and small businesses of other Autistic/ND creators when they align with my values and make sense for my community.*
*(Note: if I don’t know you, please don’t ask. This is for people I already have a healthy relationship with.)
In practice, this looks like:
There’s more to economic justice than what we contribute to each other.
I am also conscious of how I spend my money and what products I buy and services I engage, including:
Likewise, I am very intentional about how I offer my services. I see marketing as nothing more or less than a way to let people know what I have available.
If that’s what they want, and the timing and finances work out, great. I won’t try to talk anyone into anything.
If that’s not what they want, that’s even more reason not to try to convince them that they want what they don’t want.
I choose to market ethically, which includes:
Another aspect of economic justice that I’ve wrestled with a lot, especially lately, is about charging what feels to me like a lot of money. Is that fair?
Especially with the prices of so many things going up, and so many people facing difficult financial times, how can I justify adding to the hardship by charging so much money?
I’ll spare you my long inner turmoil. Ultimately what I keep coming back to, time and again, is one simple, incontrovertible fact.
So is it fair?
Objectively, yes.
What would not be fair is working for less than what it takes to cover my expenses, or more hours than I can sustainably keep up, and consequently going out of business, so no one else gets any benefit from my work any longer.
That’s not economic justice, it’s just passing the burden to someone else, and not where it belongs. It’s volunteering to contribute to my own oppression. The system has already done its best to keep me down and silent and powerless; if I go out of business, they win. Pushing back includes charging what it takes to survive, so I can keep working to create a more just world.
And am I adding to the hardship?
Also no. Because my prices are not really the problem. There are systemic and individual reasons why some people will not be able to afford my rates, and others will think I’m cheap.
And compared to industry rates for coaches of similar education and experience, I am very much on the low end, intentionally, to keep my rates as affordable as possible.
My clients span a wide spectrum of financial situations, and my own estimation of what is “a lot” comes from my years of living in poverty, not some objective truth that applies to everyone.
I’ve already addressed, above, the many systems I’ve put in place to help out those who genuinely cannot afford my standard rates. Beyond that, I cannot single-handedly take responsibility for everyone’s financial situation. That’s simply not possible, reasonable, or reciprocal.
I can take responsibility for mine and the people who depend on me, by ensuring our long-term financial security.
And when more people with a strong sense of justice are financially stable, we can be more effective at creating economic justice for others. My continuing to struggle only benefits the bullies.
The mindset that says I should undercharge—depriving myself of needed resources—in order to relieve the perceived economic stress of our entire toxic system, is propagating unhealthy and unequal relationship dynamics, in which we will all end up losing eventually.
It’s interesting to me that people so often expect independent service providers (especially women and marginalized people) to negotiate prices, give discounts whenever someone can’t afford their standard rates, and even stop selling when there are tragic world events or crises, and yet they don’t expect the same of big corporations (who are usually much more able to take the hit), or offer to cut their own salaries until the world is less of a train wreck. Hmmm.
What privilege to be able to work without compensation.
Of course I don’t expect anyone to cut their own salaries, or to negotiate the price of eggs at the supermarket, or argue for need-based discounts from major corporations (as much as I wish that were possible (and believe me, I’ve tried)).
I think it’s so much more common to do this with small businesses and independent service providers simply because there’s a person you can talk to. Someone to negotiate with. A warm body to ask who might actually care and respond.
And I genuinely do care and want to help out. Because I remember all too clearly how frustrating it was to finally find a product or service that might help and to be stymied on the price. So please do take advantage of what I offer.
But I can only offer up to a point, without hurting myself in the process. And then it becomes win-lose again. That’s not a healthy or sustainable relationship.
That’s not the world I’m working to create.
Rather, when people who care and are thoughtful and are good stewards of money, have more of it, we can make more of an impact in the world.
If you’re at a point in your Journey where you are completely ready to take full advantage of one of my courses or coaching, and do the things that it takes to make your life better, and it’s literally just a lack of money that’s in your way right now, contact me and we can work something out.
I’m not going to turn anyone away for a lack of money, but there does need to be some kind of an energetic exchange where we both get something of value.
Does that feel fair to you?
Economic justice, in my view, is about seeing the full humanity in every transaction: recognizing value including and beyond cash, creating genuine reciprocity, and building systems that honor both individual and collective well-being.
How do you tell if people really want honesty or not? Here are a few tips, and some relief for when you get it wrong.
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