Somewhere along the way, we decided that talking about money was impolite. You don't ask what someone earns. You don't share your own salary. You don't compare what you paid for something or whether the deal was good. The silence is so normalized that most people don't notice it's there.
But silence about money isn't neutral. It has costs. And most of those costs fall on the people who can least afford them.
When you don't talk about salaries, the people who benefit are the ones setting them. Every employer prefers that employees don't compare notes. The gap between what you're paid and what you could negotiate closes the moment you have real information. That information is freely available, if people would share it. Most don't, because they were taught not to.
The same dynamic plays out everywhere. People overpay for services because they don't know what others paid. They under-save because nobody explained what savings actually buys over time. They carry debt at rates they'd refuse if they understood the numbers. They avoid investing because the topic feels too complicated and too private to ask anyone about.
Financial literacy doesn't come from silence. It comes from conversation. From asking uncomfortable questions and getting honest answers. From finding out that your colleague earns $20,000 more than you for the same work, or that the subscription you're paying $300 a month for costs someone else $80.
The discomfort around these conversations is real. But it's manufactured. It serves institutions that profit from your not knowing. Employers. Lenders. Anyone who benefits from information asymmetry.
Talking about money won't make you greedy or crass. It will make you better informed. And being better informed, in almost every financial decision, is the entire ballgame.