Entitlement Vs financial literacy: When celebs, content creators turn to followers for help

Have social media followers, almost without realising it, become an informal emergency fund for the people they watch every day?

A public figure can spend months projecting an image of comfort, success and an enviable lifestyle, only to turn to the same audience for help when an unexpected bill arrives.

Sometimes the appeal follows a genuine tragedy. At other times, it is for a birthday party, an event, equipment, a luxury purchase or expenses that look more like wants than emergencies.

And that is where the conversation becomes complicated.

At what point does generosity become an expectation? And have social media followers, almost without realising it, become an informal emergency fund for the people they watch every day?

Just a few days ago, a widely known content creator played ‘goddess’, gloating about how she makes hundreds of thousands in a couple of days.

By her own account, she rakes in upwards of half a million shillings a month, comfortable enough to publicly needle other women she called ‘broke girlfriends.’

Fast forward a few weeks later, a real tragedy struck: her father passed away, and she made an appeal to the same crowd she had earlier talked down to, asking for help to bury him.

The sympathy came along with lots of backlash online. Social media users went to task and did the math: if she really earned what she claimed, why was she asking people she’d mocked for being broke?

The grief was real. So was the pile-on, spite and ridicule, all morphed into one and targeted at her.

“Whether we are rich or struggling, humility is a virtue that never goes out of style. Success should make us kinder, not more arrogant. Let this be a reminder to all of us to remain humble, treat others with respect, and remember that life can change in an instant,” advised social media user Esiro Anthony on Facebook.

It should be noted that we are not calling out anybody or pointing fingers at any particular person whatsoever.

This is a pattern so familiar on social platforms where some actually go ahead and publish a whole lot of lists in the guise of ‘manifesting.’

Some have posted ridiculous ‘wish-lists’ while plastering their Mpesa numbers for all and sundry to chip in with ‘something small.’

A known content creator not so long ago posted an ambitious list featuring land, a Mazda CX-8, an iPhone and a foreign trip.

Another media personality published a high-end luxury list on Instagram including a Porsche Cayenne, a MacBook Pro, designer perfume, and a trip to Malaysia, while another content creator drew massive online attention after posting a birthday wish list valued at around Sh1.8 million.

Most recently, a popular comedian held her anniversary event where she was left owing service providers; she went public asking for contributions to clear the debts.

But she added a twist: local leaders, she said, had promised to bankroll the event and quietly backed out.

The public wasn’t fully convinced. Questions piled up about where the event’s money had gone, and within days she had pulled down a Facebook page with 1.8 million followers.

Then there was a renowned actor who broke down, weeping about rent he couldn’t pay. Kenyans responded fast and helped raise cash while well-wishers bought him a house.

It read like a clean redemption arc until months later, he went back on camera to say life was still hard and could people now help him buy a camera to restart his career.

That second ask landed differently. People who’d genuinely dug into their pockets felt played, and he was accused of mismanaging what he’d been given. He apologised eventually.

Another scenario, not too far from that, a Gospel singer tried transparency instead, and got scrutinised anyway. She posted her M-Pesa number and asked fans to help raise Sh200,000 for her son’s birthday. No tragedy, no crisis, just a parent wanting a big day, funded by strangers.

Recently, influencer Gloria Ntazola sparked a lively debate online after posting a blunt rant calling out what she describes as the increasingly costly culture of friendship in Nairobi.

“If it’s your birthday, look for money, do a party for yourself, and gift yourself the things you love. Stop fitting your demands in people’s pockets,” she said.

It captured a mood that has grown noticeably less patient, drawing a harder line between genuine hardship and generosity treated as a subscription fee for being a fan.

While we are at it, we will not pretend that the spirit of harambee is a new phenomenon. It has been with Kenyans for the longest: funeral levies, school fees, hospital bills, organised through churches, chamas, workplaces, and family, are a common occurrence.

But the rise of social media has bridged the gap in that a fundraiser that once took weeks to organise now launches with one till number and a tearful video, reaching hundreds of thousands of strangers before midnight.

The donors may have often never met the person they’re helping, but what they have is years of parasocial closeness. It feels like knowing someone, and that feeling is exactly what makes the ask land, and exactly what makes the comment section feel entitled to an opinion afterwards.

Have social media followers, almost without realising it, become an informal emergency fund for the people they watch every day?

“When a person becomes famous, their life changes. More often than not, famous people are admired, mostly for the flashy lives they live, real or imagined, and so it is difficult for their fans to believe that they can suffer ‘common man’ problems,” says publicist John Mwangi.

Earlier this month, Kaluma Boy, the young Kenyan whose family’s story moved thousands of Kenyans to open their wallets in late 2025, was pushed to address the public on how every shilling of the donated funds was used, and the revelations have stirred fresh debate online after he was accused of allegedly squandering the windfall.

Behind all the drama is a bigger problem: many Kenyan creators have irregular incomes but lack proper financial planning and support.

“Platform income is unstable by design,” says a Nairobi financial literacy consultant who works with entertainers and digital creators.

“A brand deal this month says nothing about next month, and the content that gets rewarded is spending, not saving, so very few people building a following are quietly building an emergency fund too.”

Looking wealthy and being financially secure, she notes, are two different jobs

Ted Kalani, a financial expert, also describes Kenya’s influencer economy as a “platform-mediated attention market.”

He argues that the industry can be sustainable because internet use and social media consumption continue to rise, but says its biggest challenge is irregular income.

“There is a time when there are gigs and there is a time when there are none,” he says. The risks go beyond money.

He argues that “creators expose their personal lives to the public, meaning a scandal can affect both reputation and income almost immediately. For someone whose career depends on personal branding, the consequences can be severe.” This makes financial discipline particularly important.

The Kenya Film Commission has also highlighted financial literacy as an increasingly important part of sustainable creative careers, noting that creatives often work with project-based and irregular earnings and need to plan around budgeting, saving, investing and retirement.

Award-winning producer Motif believes mentorship has a major role to play in closing this gap, particularly for young entertainers entering an industry where creativity and business now overlap.

“Talent alone is not enough in today’s music industry,” he says. “Young artistes need guidance on creativity, branding, contracts, royalties, collaboration, and financial management.”

The same applies to creators. “A young person who suddenly gains 500,000 followers may know how to make a viral video but have no idea how to negotiate a contract, separate personal and business money or build an emergency fund,” he adds.

That is a business problem, not a character flaw. But poor financial preparation does not automatically make repeated appeals acceptable either.

The responsibility exists on both sides. Creators need to understand that an audience is not an ATM. Financial literacy should be treated as part of the job, not an optional skill.

Research published in April this year estimated that Kenyan influencers earned about Sh1.07 billion from the creator economy in 2025, with the top 10 accounting for about Sh296 million in brand-sponsored earnings. Those numbers make content creation look like a gold mine.

Learning how to budget, save during good months, invest, manage and separate personal spending from business income can help creators withstand difficult periods without repeatedly turning to their followers.