This morning, while on a walk, I listened to Morgan Housel’s latest podcast episode. He made a case about how much of the success around us is driven by tails. Given that I am an ardent student of venture capital, I’m very familiar with the power law, which is an extreme version of the 80/20 rule.
As Morgan highlighted these tail ends in everyday life, I realized that the power law—not the 80/20 rule—is what truly drives the world. A small percentage of people, events, or companies are responsible for the vast majority of outcomes. This isn’t just a venture capital phenomenon; it’s a universal truth.
Look at the public markets. Most buyers of index funds underestimate how much of the returns accrue to only a handful of companies. The assumption is that the index is evenly distributed, but in reality, the winners disproportionately drive the returns. The same applies to venture capital. The vast majority of returns come from less than 3% of investments. The rest don’t move the needle.
Listening to that episode, I couldn’t help but see parallels between this and the world I was brought up in. My childhood environment was ruled by polygamy. A man married several women and had tens of children. Looking back, I can understand why.
People lived in uncertainty. Disease, war, and hardship meant that survival was never guaranteed. No one wanted to put all their eggs in one basket. Having multiple wives and many children was an insurance policy. For men, it increased the likelihood that their lineage would continue. For women, it was protection against the high rate of child mortality. It was a portfolio approach to survival.
Even when children survived, there was no way to know who would ultimately make it. But the hope was that one of them would rise and carry the weight of the others.
This is exactly how venture capitalists behave. They invest in a portfolio of companies, knowing they can’t predict who the breakout star will be. They extend as much support as possible, hoping that one winner will pay for the rest.
Bringing this home, there’s the conversation around the black tax. I used to resent it, but I’ve come around to embrace it. Initially, my acceptance came from a biblical perspective: To whom much is given, much is expected.
I’ve had many lucky breaks. I’m not exactly where I want to be, but I’m in a place many would love to reach. Because of that, there’s an expectation that I should assume responsibility. I resisted this for a long time, but listening to that episode reinforced the idea that, like in venture capital, like in polygamous families, some of us are the ones who made it. And when you’re the one who made it, you owe it to the rest.
At Nala, we have a tradition called Learn Kila Siku—Swahili for Learn Every Day. Every Friday, a team member steps up and tells their story. Mine was scheduled for January 3rd but was postponed indefinitely. While preparing for it, I asked ChatGPT what the title of a movie about my life would be. It suggested several titles, but none resonated. Then it hit me: The Chosen One, in My Family.
I asked ChatGPT what that meant. It responded: Being the chosen one in your family often carries a sense of responsibility, pressure, and privilege. It’s a deeply emotional and personal role to step into.
That description fit perfectly. I have had more lucky breaks than my siblings. As the lastborn, I was shielded from many hardships. I had uninterrupted time to build myself. And now, it’s time to give back.
Many of us find ourselves in this position. We are the ones who made it. The portfolio of bets—our family, our community, our nation—has paid off in us. Take it as a badge of honor. Don’t sulk. Bear the responsibility and give back.
In credit markets, good customers unfortunately pay for the bad ones. They bear the responsibility. This is no different. If you are the chosen one—the one who caught the lucky breaks—carry the weight with a smile.