Parliament | The Soft Bias of Low Expectations
I was listening to a conversation between Alex Hormozi and Tony Robbins when something hit me. Alex was explaining that he doesn't get joy from his work—but he's phenomenal at it, and it generates massive wealth, and that's enough for him. Tony pushed back hard. Told him it wasn't enough. That wealth without fulfillment is a hollow victory.
And I realized: no one ever warned me about that trade-off.
Not once growing up did someone pull me aside and say, "Design is fun, Kristen, but can you support a family on that?" No guidance counselor questioned whether my degree would generate enough income. I was never "afraid" of the financial realities of creative work.
I was socialized for something else entirely. To be likeable. To make others feel good. To follow my passion without the weight of provision on my shoulders.
This is what we call the soft bias of low expectations—and it's one of the most insidious forms of gender socialization there is.
The Numbers Don't Lie
88% of women-owned businesses make less than $100,000 per year. Let that sink in.
That's not because women aren't capable. It's because we were never told that earning was part of our identity. We weren't raised with the expectation that our value would be measured by our capacity to provide, to scale, to dominate markets.
Men carry a different burden. From an early age, their identity becomes fused with what they can do and what they can earn. Not how they feel. Not how they make others feel. Just what they produce and what that production is worth in dollars.
That socialization is suffocating in its own way. But let's be honest—it also creates a different relationship with ambition, with risk, with the relentless pursuit of more.
The Freedom and the Trap
Here's the paradox: I was given permission to follow my passion precisely because no one expected me to build an empire from it. I could dabble. I could explore. I could make "enough."
That freedom is real. And it's also a cage.
Because when you're never pushed to think bigger, when you're never challenged on your capacity to earn serious money, when no one questions whether you can handle the pressure of scale—you internalize that message. You start to believe that staying small is the reasonable choice. The safe choice. The appropriate choice for someone like you.
I see it in the women founders I work with. Brilliant strategists who second-guess their pricing. Visionary leaders who apologize for their ambition. Companies doing transformational work but terrified to demand what they're worth.
We buck the status quo just by existing in this space. But we're still haunted by the soft whisper that told us we didn't need to think about money the way men do.
What We Lose (And What We Keep)
Don't misunderstand me—there are plenty of other barriers holding women back. The maternal penalty. The confidence gap. The lack of venture capital flowing to women-led companies. The constant requirement to prove competence while men are granted the presumption of it.
But this particular barrier—the one where we were never taught that our work should generate wealth, not just fulfillment—is especially dangerous because it lives inside us. It shapes how we set goals, negotiate contracts, and measure success.
Men are crushed by the expectation to provide. Women are diminished by the absence of that expectation.
Both forms of socialization are damaging. But one creates pressure to perform at the highest levels. The other creates permission to settle.
And here's where it gets interesting: maybe we don't have to choose between Alex's wealth-without-joy and the passion-without-scale that so many women default to. Maybe there's a third way that nobody told us about because nobody expected us to need it.
Rewriting the Script
I'm not advocating that we adopt the toxic parts of male socialization—the suppression of emotion, the identity crisis when work falters, the relentless grind that burns people out.
But I am saying we need to reckon with what we've internalized about earning, about ambition, about what we're capable of building.
Because bucking the status quo isn't just about starting a business. It's about building one that generates serious wealth. It's about taking up space in rooms where decisions get made and capital gets allocated. It's about expecting more from ourselves than anyone else ever expected from us.
The soft bias of low expectations gave us permission to start. But it won't give us permission to scale. That's something we have to claim for ourselves.
So here's my question for you: What would change if you believed—really believed—that your work should generate significant wealth and deep fulfillment? Not one or the other. Both.
What would you do differently tomorrow?
That's the work. Not just building brands that look good or feel authentic. Building brands that are worth something. Building businesses that generate real money and real power while doing work that actually matters to us.
Because here's what nobody tells you: fulfillment and wealth often go hand in hand when you're driven by purpose rather than pressure. When you build something you actually care about, you don't quit when it gets hard. You don't build to exit. You build to last. And that obsession, that refusal to walk away from work that matters—that's what creates real value.
The world doesn't need more women making just enough to get by.
It needs women building empires around work they love, and unapologetically getting rich.
