You ever notice how, as Africans, we treat “making it” like some sacred rite of passage we spend  that 99.9% of life is preparing you for? From the moment your uncle asks “So when are you coming back with a PhD AND a condo in Dubai?”, we are baptized in expectations that aren’t even ours but somehow cost us mental bandwidth like rent. Actually making it, or rather becoming the one who made it,  feels like carrying not just your own success but everyone else’s dreams on your back. It’s like being crowned “The Chosen One” in a Marvel movie, while imposter syndrome is killing you. 

Our parents tell us, “Go study hard, so you won’t end up begging forever.” They don’t realize that once you actually make it , whether that’s launching a startup, owning a business, becoming an academic, or snagging that medical residency, the pressure doesn’t disappear, it just gets louder. According to McKinsey & Company, underrepresented founders often carry both professional responsibilities and the expectations of their communities, which can be mentally exhausting.

And  the funny or sad part is that even success comes with bias attached. In Western countries, African immigrants are sometimes labeled an “invisible model minority” meaning Black excellence gets noticed only when convenient, and ignored when uncomfortable.

So what does making it feel like? It starts with a family group chat that treats your achievements like a national holiday:

“Sheena graduated!! ”

“…so when are you getting married?”

And ends with your cousin asking for startup funds before you’ve even absorbed your own success. For many African founders, success isn’t just reaching the finish line, it’s carrying the morale of everyone waiting behind you.

Literally. There’s a whole cultural concept in some West and Central African communities for “whoever left the village and struck it rich,” sometimes told in local slang as someone who “went to the bush and came back loaded.” It’s romantic until it turns into people assuming your life is now permanently stress free.

To be clear, success on paper doesn’t always match success in practice. Look at the research  on Africans with disabilities who did achieve economic success, not by magic, but by navigating systemic barriers with grit and still weren’t automatically celebrated for it.

Meanwhile, academic research shows that success narratives can warp our understanding of effort vs luck vs support. Some studies even show that too much focus on success blinds us to the systemic advantages and barriers that made it harder or easier for different people.

So, what does it feel like to be “the one who made it”? Picture this, you finally land that dream job. You think you’ll breathe, relax, maybe even pick up a hobby like yoga or sleeping more than 5 hours. But instead, you suddenly become the Family Bank, the Career Therapist, the Friend With The Unshakable Motivation and the Unofficial Ambassador of African Excellence. Your success confers expectations that you outperform everyone else  even yourself. That’s not encouragement.

Some of this pressure comes from  deep places to mention but a few , post colonial pride, diaspora narratives, parents’ sacrifices and global stereotypes about Africa owning its success story. But the result? A brand of exhaustion  that feels like running a marathon every day, with everyone else’s applause acting as both fuel and weight.

But  Success is supposed to be self care, not self sacrifice. Boomers might see success as stability, a house, a retirement plan, respect. Both are right and reasonable. But  are still often ignored in conversations about achievement.

Truth is, “making it” sometimes feels like getting to the top of a mountain, only to realize someone added another peak you didn’t sign up for. So what if we rewrite the narrative and success isn’t just reaching the summit but surviving the climb with your sanity, joy and relationships intact? Maybe then, the next time someone says, “You made it!”, we’ll finally hear it as support, not another deadline on our emotional calendar.