Who Defines Your Worth?

How each generation inherits different assumptions about work, worth, and success.

He asked, "Do you think I'm asking for too much?"

It turned out he wasn't really asking about money.

Not too long ago, my son came to me because he was preparing to ask for a raise.

His contract was up for renewal in a couple of months. Since joining the company after graduating from college, his responsibilities had grown, but his salary hadn't kept pace.

I often heard his manager praise his work during Zoom meetings, and his colleagues regularly thanked him for his help. I know I'm his mother, but even I was impressed listening to him lead meetings. It was clear he had grown into the role.

Before deciding how much to ask for, he did his homework. He researched what people in similar positions were earning, compared their responsibilities to his own, and thought carefully about the value he was bringing to the organization. He wasn't looking for a number that sounded impressive. He was trying to determine what would be fair.

Then he drafted an email and asked me to read it.

It was thoughtful, professional, and well written. He wasn't making demands. He had done the research to support his request.

Before he hit Send, he asked me one last question.

"Do you think I'm asking for too much?"

I paused. Not because I doubted him, but because I realized I never would have asked for a raise that early in my career.

As a Gen Xer, I was raised to keep my head down, work hard, stay loyal, and hope someone eventually noticed. There was value in that mindset. It taught resilience.

My son is part of Gen Z. Watching him prepare for that conversation made me wonder if we've misunderstood his generation. Sometimes they're labeled as entitled. But my son wasn't asking for more because he felt entitled. He had taken the time to investigate the market, evaluate his contributions, and decide what he believed was fair before asking someone else to agree.

So I answered him the only way I could.

"I can't define your worth. Only you can."

As I said the words, I realized I hadn't always believed them myself.

For years, I found reasons to lower my own expectations. First, it was not having a college degree. Then it was being a Black woman in predominantly white workplaces. Later, it was convincing myself my degree wasn't prestigious enough. Every time one reason disappeared, another seemed to take its place.

I told him that knowing your worth isn't the same as assuming you're worth more. It means taking the time to find out.

Gather the facts. Understand the market. Consider what you're contributing. Then decide what you believe is fair before asking someone else to agree with you.

If the company disagreed, that wouldn't automatically mean he was wrong. It would simply give him more information. From there, he could decide whether to negotiate, stay, or look elsewhere.

A week later, he called to tell me he'd received a raise within the range he'd requested.

Of course I was proud.

Not because he got the raise, but because he had already made the harder decision. Before anyone else placed a value on his work, he had taken the time to investigate it for himself and decide what he believed it was worth.

Maybe every generation has something to teach the next.

Mine taught me resilience.

My son's generation is teaching me that advocating for yourself doesn't have to come from entitlement.

Sometimes it comes from doing your homework, trusting your judgment, and refusing to let someone else define your worth.

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