friends, family, and fundraising
my main bishes
Money complicates everything, in my experience. I’ll never forget how much my relationship with my parents improved as soon as I was no longer financially dependent on them, or how nickle-and-diming a college roommate completely soured our relationship, or how discretely trying to financially assist a post-college roommate turned into me developing something of a savior complex which… also... soured the relationship.
I’ll never forget how icky I felt that time I briefly joined a multi-level marketing scheme and tried to either rope my friends into it or sell them on the products. Within the first week after I bought in (…yep), I realized that I was being asked to drive away the real people in my life and hop aboard the hype-train for which I had just purchased a ticket. I may have been young and naïve, but I was quick to realize that I didn’t want to exchange all of my friends for clients and turn my coworkers into my only friends. Thankfully, I got out of that one and got my “investment” back.
Borrowing money is tricky, too. Taking a loan from a loved one requires that both parties be mature enough to establish both expectations and boundaries, as well as be able to generally navigate the situation with the kind of aplomb that is, frankly, rare these days. It’s a high-risk move on both sides: if the borrower misuses the funds or pushes the envelope with regards to the lender’s expectations, tensions arise. Just so, too, if the lender holds the loan over the borrower’s head, making new demands or even threats. I can’t think of a better way to undermine trust in an otherwise healthy relationship.
On the other hand, in an investment scenario, if one is aware of what lies on either side of the straight and narrow path that results from mixing loved ones with lending, it should be a very powerful motivational tool. In a world where meaningful relationships aren’t taken for granted, the risk of losing someone after a financially-backed failure can help preclude any half-assing or corner-cutting that the borrower may be tempted to engage in.
I don’t want to lose So-and-so, therefore I must do my absolutely best with the opportunity they’ve enabled me to pursue.
Unfortunately, this is not the world we live in, as evidenced by how terribly we tend to treat those we care about the most (because we know they’re not going to leave us… until they do). Parents enable their children by exchanging money for an unarticulated promise of affection, an assuagement of guilt, or just to feel involved in their lives. Friends support the businesses of other friends because they either feel obligated to or they worry they’ll lose the acceptance of the other person if they don’t. Children, trepidatious about stepping out on their own into the world, accept money from domineering parents and then feel that they must sacrifice their autonomy just to survive, or to receive any kind of notice or affection.
All of this to say— if we’re not emotionally and interpersonally calibrated enough to go into these transactions with integrity and mutual respect, the money that is intended to enable our very lives can end up ruining them.
For these reasons, I do not plan on raising a friends and family round for my startup, Medallion. Over the last year, I have become acutely aware of who my true friends are, and I am blessed that so many of them happen to be related to me. I wouldn’t risk (or cheapen) those blessings by capitalizing on them for the world.
True friends and family are they most important assets we have. They are invaluable. That means you can’t put a price on it.
And I don’t plan to.
