Teach Gen Z the power of money
This Mother’s Day, I’m not asking for flowers. I’m asking my children to understand compound interest.
Romantic? No. Necessary? Absolutely.
The ilaw ng tahanan has a new job description in 2026—and it includes making sure the lights actually stay on. Figuratively and literally, during this energy crisis and era of geopolitical turmoil.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, as both a financial journalist and educator—and more relevantly right now, as a single mother navigating her own seismic financial reset.
Earlier last year, my byline officially changed to Salve Ibañez. A small bureaucratic act that carried enormous weight. My marriage ended—not in war, not in wreckage, but in what I can only describe as a mindful decoupling. Full focus was on healing everyone in the family, especially the youngest ones.
My ex-husband retains complete financial responsibility over our children’s needs and their future—no bitterness, no squabbles. These are heavy with regular psychological therapy sessions added into the equation, among many other things.
But we are two adults who choose dignity over drama, acknowledging that we are finally doing the right thing after decades of clinging to a beautiful thing—a family that loves each other no matter the circumstances.
I am not sharing these things merely as a form of self-indulgence, as if my personal story would be interesting to so many who are already struggling with the economics of cabbage and kangkong. I am sharing because single parents have come to me with questions, and stories are a more effective way of answering them.
Now, here’s what no one tells you about even the most civilized separations: The financial shift is massive. And the work of making sure my children understand money—real money, earned money, protected money—doesn’t end because you have a clean agreement. If anything, it intensifies.
What has made the healing more beautiful, more than anything I could have planned, is that my own mother now lives with us. She is 88 years old, and her presence in this house fills every room.
Mommy Marcy is the original financial literacy lesson of my life.
She was a public school teacher—which, as any Filipino will tell you, is a calling that demands everything and returns just enough. After her school day had ended, she didn’t go home. She went to public hospital hallways and sold abaca slippers, some of which we made with our own hands.
Five little girls needed to eat. Five daughters, one mother, multiple ends to meet and not a single evening wasted on self-pity.
She never used the words “emergency fund” or “multiple income streams.” But she lived them—in the only language available to a woman of her generation and circumstance: sheer, unrelenting diskarte (resourcefulness). All while smiling with grace.
My children see her every day now. They see her at 88, still sharp, still warm, still the kind of woman who made something out of almost nothing for decades. And I think—I hope—that is worth more than any financial literacy module I could design.
Because here we are: Three generations under one roof. Her story, my reset, their beginning. What connects all of us is the same stubborn truth—financial independence isn’t a luxury.
For the women in this family, it has always been survival, dignity and love, in that order.
Which brings me to the much larger question this Mother’s Day. Not just for my household, but for every nanay, lola and tita raising the generation everyone seems baffled by: How do you teach Generation Z the power of money when they’ve decided, as a generation, that money isn’t really the point?
The ‘deserve ko ‘to’ economy
The Filipino Gen Z cohort is about 41 million strong—roughly 38 percent of our total population. They are already reshaping the consumer landscape. Research from The Fourth Wall describes them as “self-rewarding, intelligent consumers” whose spending is driven by emotional connection and a fierce sense of self-worth.
“Deserve ko ‘to!” isn’t just a caption. It’s a philosophy.
Here’s where mothers of a certain age get confused: These young people are not reckless. They are not lazy. They are not indifferent to money. Research from the Ateneo de Manila University, published in the peer-reviewed journal Evidence-based HRM last year, found that Filipino Gen Z employees are idealistic yet pragmatic—seeking meaningful work that benefits society while actively working toward long-term financial security.
Read that again. Purpose and prosperity. They want both. But they refuse to pursue money at the cost of meaning.
The new playbook
This is the planetary shift. The old playbook—work hard, save 10 percent, invest in your Pag-Ibig MP2, buy a house—was built on a premise our generation accepted: that financial security was the goal, full stop.
Gen Z doesn’t buy that. The Ateneo researchers found that many Filipino Gen Z employees are motivated by work that aligns with their passion and allows them to make a positive impact on others and on society at large.
So the Mother’s Day challenge isn’t just celebrating the women who raised this generation. It’s asking whether we equipped them.
What actually works
In my financial education sessions through Empower and Transform, I’ve learned that the frame matters everything with this generation.
Don’t say: “Save for retirement.” They’ll tune out—retirement is a foreign country to a 22-year-old.
Do say: “Save for options.” Financial independence isn’t about being rich. It’s about the ability to say no—to a bad job, a bad relationship, a bad situation—without financial terror pulling you back. That framing lands. Every single time.
Don’t moralize about materialism. Inquirer reported last year that Gen Z is price-conscious with daily staples but happily splurges on things they connect to emotionally—concert tickets, collectibles, experiences. That’s not dysfunction. That’s a values-based spending hierarchy. Work with it, not against it.
And if you want to reach them where they actually are: A 2024 Fidelity report found that 30 percent of Gen Z investors turn to TikTok and YouTube as their primary sources of financial education.
FinTok is not the enemy. It’s the distribution channel. The question is whether credible voices show up there—or leave the space entirely to the hype merchants.
The best Mother’s Day gift
My children have watched me rebuild this year. They’ve seen me navigate paperwork, reestablish my own brand (yes initially it messed them up, but now they love it), restructure my income streams, and still show up—at the home office and office, at the radio and television studio, at the client meeting or moderating heavy discussions on stage—with my game face on.
And every day, they see their lola at 88, the woman who once sold slippers in hospital hallways after a full day of teaching, still luminous, still present, still proof that a woman with very little can build something that lasts generations.
That is their financial education.
I am fiercely, deliberately, nonnegotiably financially independent. Not because their father isn’t responsible—he is, and his offer reflects that deeply. But because I refuse to raise children who believe financial security is something that happens to you, delivered by someone else.
Gen Z doesn’t want to be materialistic. Good—neither do I, and neither did my mother, who never had the luxury of choosing otherwise.
But teach them this: Money buys options. Options buy dignity. And dignity—the ability to choose, to leave, to stay, to build, to show up for the people you love without your hands tied—is everything.
Happy Mother’s Day. Now go check your emergency fund.
(Salve Ibañez hosts Business Outlook on ANC and cohosts a program on dzMM Teleradyo. She runs Empower and Transform, OPC, a financial literacy and inclusion platform.)
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