If Royalty Can Ask For It. Why Can’t You?

Sarah Ferguson in a crowd smiling with a forest green headband on her red hair and a matching forest green coat

 

If Royalty Can Ask For It. Why Can’t You?

By Kristen Money Coach

Let’s talk about Sarah Ferguson for a minute.

You know – Fergie. The Duchess of York. Former royal, perpetual tabloid favourite, woman who once sold access to her ex-husband for cash and somehow came out the other side with a Netflix deal and a podcast.

She has reportedly been in and out of financial difficulty for decades. Millions of pounds of debt, PR disasters, and yet is there anyone but me wondering how she had the brass neck (as we say Up North) to ask for billionaire friends to pay off her debts or buy her seats on planes?

And that, right there, is what I want us to sit with today.

Because Sarah Ferguson doesn’t seem particularly bothered about asking for money. Whether it was asking for loans, asking for sponsorship deals, asking for advances, asking for favours – she asks. Publicly, sometimes. Brazenly, occasionally. But she asks.

Now contrast that with the people I work with every day.

Brilliant, hardworking people. People who’ve grafted their whole lives. People who’d rather go without than pick up the phone and say “I’m struggling” or “I need help” or even just “Can I have a pay rise?”

Why is that? What’s going on there?

It’s Not About Manners. It’s About Money Stories.

There’s a phrase I come back to time and time again in my work: money stories. These are the deep-seated money beliefs we carry – usually picked up in childhood, often absorbed without us even realising it, that quietly run the show long into adulthood.

For a lot of working class people (and I say this with love, because I am one), the money story sounds something like this:

“Don’t ask. Don’t make a fuss. Be grateful for what you’ve got. Money doesn’t grow on trees. Who do you think you are?”

It’s woven into our culture. You don’t talk about money at the dinner table. You don’t tell people what you earn. You certainly don’t ask for more. That’s not modest, that’s just not done.

And there’s something deeply tied up with shame in there too. The idea that if you need money, if you’re struggling, if you’ve got debt, if you’re skint, it somehow reflects on your worth as a person. That you’ve failed. That you should have done better. That good, decent people don’t end up needing to ask.

Meanwhile, Back at the Palace…

Here’s the thing, a lot of people from wealthy or aristocratic backgrounds – they have an entirely different money story.

Money beliefs, for them, is just a thing. A resource. Something that flows in and out. Something you talk about, negotiate, ask for, and expect to receive. Debt isn’t shameful, it’s just a cash flow issue. Needing help isn’t weakness, it’s just logistics.

I’m not saying they’re right about this. I’m not saying we should all go flogging access to our exes for fifty grand (please don’t). But there is something to learn from the sheer lack of shame that some people bring to the conversation about money.

Asking for money, whether that’s a pay rise, a better deal, financial support, or simply talking openly about what you need, is not embarrassing. It is not a moral failure. It is just a conversation.

The Trauma of Money Is Real

This is something I feel strongly about, and it’s central to the work I do. Money isn’t just numbers on a spreadsheet. For many of us, it’s wrapped up in trauma, in scarcity, in fear, in generational patterns of poverty or precarity that leave real marks.

If you grew up watching your parents stress about bills, you learned that money equals danger. If you were ever made to feel ashamed for not having things other kids had, you learned that money equals worth. If you watched people who had money behave badly, you might have learned that wanting money makes you a bad person.

These aren’t silly or irrational responses. They made complete sense in the context you learned them. But they can absolutely hold you back as an adult, keeping you silent when you should be speaking up, keeping you stuck when you deserve so much more.

So What Can We Actually Do About It?

Firstly, recognise the story. Just notice it.  If you feel that knot in your stomach at the idea of asking to be paid more, or calling in a debt, or asking a family member for help, that’s not weakness. That’s a learned response. It’s not the truth about you.

Second, separate your worth from your wealth. You are not your bank balance. You are not your debt. You are not your postcode or your job title or how many zeros are in your savings account. You are a person. A whole person. And whole people sometimes need help with money (whether you have plenty or not enough). That’s just life.

Then, get some support. Not sales patter, not someone trying to flog you a product wrapped up in financial advice. Real support. Someone who actually gives a damn about your relationship with money, not just the numbers. Someone who is actually is able to hold confidential space for you to really discover what your money stories have told you.

Here’s What I Know For Sure

Many of us have been taught, in a hundred quiet ways, that we shouldn’t discuss money.

And that’s the work. That’s the real financial education — not compound interest tables and pension forecasts (though yes, those matter too), but understanding why money makes you feel the way it does, and slowly, gently, starting to change that.

You deserve to ask. You deserve to receive. You deserve a financial life that doesn’t leave you lying awake at 3am wondering if you’ll manage.

And you don’t need a tiara to claim it.

Kristen is a professional financial planner, financial educator, and certified financial coach. She works with people who are ready to change not just their finances, but their relationship with money for good.

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