The most common reason I hear for not raising prices?
It’s rarely about doubt in the work.
It’s not about a lack of results or shaky testimonials.
It’s not even about fear of rejection—
Not really.
It’s this:
“My people can’t afford more.”
In a recent workshop, when we were discussing this very issue, I said something that made the room go silent.
A sentence that cracked the surface of an old narrative so many of us still carry.
I watched it land.
I felt the field shift.
It was like time paused. The truth echoed—not just in words, but in bones.
“You are playing God with their sovereignty.”
When you decide what someone else can or cannot afford…
When you shrink your prices to match their imagined budget…
When you edit your ask before the words even leave your mouth…
You are stepping into a role that was never yours.
You are inserting yourself between them and their power.
And while it feels like generosity—
It’s actually self-erasure.
You’re trying to protect them—but at what cost?
Instead, you are robbing them of the opportunity to rise.
You are collapsing your own power under the guise of compassion.
I get it.
I’ve done it too.
There are people I feel called to serve—people I love, people I see, people whose lives I want to help change. And there’s heartbreak in realizing that I can’t always do that and build the kind of wealth I need to sustain my mission.
But undercharging doesn’t create access.
It creates burnout.
I’ve seen brilliant, mission-driven entrepreneurs contort their pricing so much they couldn’t pay their team, invest in support, or even take a full day off.
That’s not sustainable.
That’s a slow bleed that looks virtuous until it empties you.
Martyrdom is not a business model.
You were likely taught that being accessible makes your work more worthy.
That good people give more and take less.
That their money is your obstacle—
and obstacles are meant to be overcome.
Even if it costs you your sustainability—or your sanity.
Here’s the truth:
You are not a savior. You are a steward.
Of the work.
Of the calling.
Of the price that reflects the sacred container you’ve built.
Your job is not to manage someone’s financial decisions.
It’s to name the offer with clarity.
Speak the price with love.
And allow the other person the dignity of their own choice.
If you’ve ever carried the weight of someone else’s wallet, this is your moment to set it down.
Because pricing that feels good in your body—
and calls your people forward with clarity and love—
isn’t the end of the transformation.
It’s the spark.
The ignition.
The first act of the fire you were born to light.
Tap with me.
Daily Affirmation:
I trust my work to speak for itself.
I trust my prices to reflect the depth of my devotion.
I honor my clients by honoring their sovereignty.
I release control and reclaim my clarity.
I lead, I ask, I receive—with love and power.
PS: When you collapse your pricing to avoid being "too much," you’re not protecting your people—you’re underestimating them. Trust their sovereignty. State your number with sacred clarity. The right ones will rise.
Profit is protest. Sacred pricing is your revolution.
🎧 Song of the Day: “Spark” by Ash and Bloom
Whew, NEEDED to hear this! A huge part of this mindset for me is being placed in a caretaker role especially as the eldest daughter. I want my work and legacy to help people and be the antithesis of capitalism and grind culture, but felt (and still feel at times) that the people I want to work with won’t be able to afford what I ask for, despite going above and beyond, but the ones that can afford what I would like to charge, just…aren’t aligned in my values. It’s something I still wrestle with and part of the reason I haven’t put together a service list as part of my website/portfolio, but is what’s holding me back. I don’t want to be a martyr anymore, I’m better for my communities when I’m able to take care of myself, live, and go through constant burn out. Thank you for this reminder 💝