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Montgomery, Alabama in 1955 was America’s racial reality in a nutshell. Segregation was the law of the land and Black folks knew their lane. In the middle of this deeply hostile and oppressive city, one simple act of defiance sparked a movement that would change life as they knew it.
Rosa Parks’s refusal to give up her seat to a white passenger is one of the most well-known acts of protest, but it wasn’t an isolated incident. By now, we should all know that arresting people like her was a routine thing. She had confronted that particular driver before, and she certainly wasn’t the first to resist the daily humiliation of riding the bus.
Her ‘no’ was an everyday act that could have gone unnoticed in the grand tapestry of history, but not that time. Something was different.
Her quiet refusal screamed enough is enough. It spoke to the Black community in a way that nothing else had. It brought out the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. And for a whole year, the Black community – who made up most of the bus riders – said ‘no’ too.
It wasn’t just a boycott; it was a declaration that the time for change had come. The buses, once tools of degradation and racial hierarchy, became empty shells. Black residents showed their strength and unity by organizing carpool systems and finding other ways to get around, even if it meant walking for miles. They demanded change and inspired waves of resistance across the nation. The message was clear.
It has only been 68 years since that fateful day, and some people still like to simplify the success of the boycott by giving all the credit to personal traits, like Mrs. Park’s bravery or Dr. King’s charisma. A belief in rugged individualism entices us to focus on the actions of the few while downplaying the efforts of the collective. We may not be able to hear our ideological accents, but they’re obvious to those who lived through it. Our elders know progress has never been that straightforward and will always require the combined contributions of many, not just a handful of notable figures.
Convenient narratives aside, the Montgomery Bus Boycott is more than a story of tactics; it’s a lesson in the nuances of how social change works. It shows us that movements are not just born from dramatic moments of conflict or sweeping legal victories, they’re often from everyday insults that can no longer be tolerated.
Now, the Civil Rights movement was about political change, but the FIRE movement takes a different approach. It’s a social movement that aims to redefine social norms around how we think about work, consumption, and retirement. Although they have different goals and motivations, both movements are fueled by a collective awakening and an emotional response to an unfair system.
The bus boycott was a turning point in the Civil Rights movement, but it’s genius was in how it utilized a fundamental human emotion: embarrassment.
After putting up with daily disrespect and constant reminders of racism, Black people were simply tired of being embarrassed, and their tiredness reached a tipping point. Dr. King understood the power of dignity and the deep psychological impacts of its denial. When he addressed congregations, he didn’t talk about violence or money. He talked about the weariness of being devalued, tapped into a deep well of shared experiences and used that to galvanize them into action.
The FIRE community has access to similar levels of untapped potential, but we’ve spent the last few years arguing about what the acronym means and whether the FI or the RE matters more. This obsession with making either side a permanent state instead of a continuous journey stops us from seeing all the possibilities that lie in between. It also obscures the most important part: that we’re part of a movement.
We’ve forgotten how flexible this world is and how often it changes itself to fit new visions. We’re like fish in water who don’t realize that our preferences, motivations, and ideas of what is “normal” are shaped by hidden incentives and systems. These influences are so ingrained that we may not even notice them because we’re born into them or, sometimes, we benefit from them and have nothing else to compare them to.
It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about a state-sponsored system like racial segregation, or an economic system like capitalism – they’re all social constructs and they exist to make things predictable. That’s literally what the status quo is: steady, predictable, the same. Apart from government mandates or war, it’s very difficult to get a lot of people to do the same thing at the same time. Collective action, then, can be seen as a feature or a bug; because movements are one of the few things that move us away from the status quo together.
FIRE may not be a political movement, but it is a political statement. It shows a strong desire for autonomy and a willingness to take matters into our own hands. It’s a lifestyle choice that defies the norm by opting out of the typical template of a lifetime of work, retirement, and reliance on a depleted Social Security system. There are plenty of people in our community who plan to work as long as possible, their freedom comes from their ability to show up knowing it’s a choice and not a mandate.
The decision to make work optional is not just a financial strategy, it’s a way of saying “f you” to a system that uses us, lies to us, and makes us sick. The question of how to label it reflects a larger debate about how movements work and how honoring our personal grievances can create more change than policy ever will.
It may have started with a few rebels, but thanks to 20 years of tech and the creator economy, we became an influential group who realized our chances are better when we share what we know and teach others how to do the same.
People who choose FIRE are frustrated with working their asses off. They’re frustrated by a promise of security that never shows up. We all have money stories, but the story of the “ideal retirement” is a fairy tale. The story says that if we work hard enough, save enough, and invest wisely, we will be able to retire comfortably and enjoy the fruits of our labor. It has been sold to us for decades, even though the reality is far from it.
The story ignores the fact that the majority of American retirements are involuntary, and that most working years are spent living paycheck to paycheck, drowning in debt, and facing an uncertain future. It leaves out the fact that more and more people have been working past the retirement age since the 90s. And, with an average savings of less than $100,000, most retirees aren’t able to fully live off the money saved during their working years.
For many of us, ‘retirement’ will still include earning income in some form, so why not start now? We don’t have to wait until we are old and frail to enjoy our lives, nor do we have to settle for a binary choice between working and not working. We do, however, have to think differently about our careers. We have to be strategic, flexible, and creative. We have to cash out when we can, and quit while we are ahead.
We also have to be honest about the system we’re leaving behind. Because for all we praise meritocracy and company loyalty, executive trends show us otherwise. 2023 was another record year for CEOs quitting, with over 55% leaving their position, which is 51% more than the year before. We’re taught to follow leaders our whole lives, at some point we have to ask ourselves: why do we stop short when they walk out the door?
Fatigue is another powerful emotion that drives people to the FIRE movement. The constant stress of living a paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle, juggling bills, and being uncertain about the future can wear down even the toughest person over time. That exhaustion becomes a breaking point and forces them to reevaluate priorities and recognize there’s more to life than the relentless cycle of work and consumption.
And then, there is the embarrassment. We’ve all heard layoff horror stories by now. We’ve listened to them and empathized with them, but what have we learned from them? Have we even named the feelings?
What do you call the sensation that comes after being callously laid off from a company you loved? How do you describe the pit in your stomach when you can’t pay for a surprise medical bill or car repair without going into debt? Or the lump in your throat when you don’t know what to say to a friend who is struggling to feed their family?
What other word perfectly captures the numbness you get when you’re betrayed by the system you believed in? Or when you have to beg for permission to stay home because you or your kid is sick?
For me, the only word more accurate than embarrassment is anger.
Anger, in this context, is not a bad thing. It’s a fuel, a motivator, and a spark. Anger is what makes us question the status quo, challenge injustice, and demand change.
Anger is also what makes us aware of the barriers we face, and the boogeymen that we encounter. Aware of the alternatives, the opportunities, and the possibilities that we have. Aware of the power, the freedom, and the joy that we deserve.
And perhaps, most importantly, aware of the progress that’s being made.
We have the tools to make better choices. We also have the history and the data to inform our decisions and the courage to do something about it. Whether it’s the rise of Black investors, the shift towards passively managed funds, or the call-out of toxic work environments by the Surgeon General, the catalysts for change are all there.
The emotions are also there. The idea of spending the best years of our lives chained to a desk, a cubicle, or a factory floor doesn’t make sense to everyone. The idea of missing out on the moments that matter, like being with our loved ones, following our passions, or making a difference in the world, doesn’t appeal to everyone.
Last but not least, the implications are there too. How would workplaces have to change if they had to attract, lead, and retain financially empowered employees? Which movements get unlocked when people are rich enough to tell the truth and fund the changes they want to see in the world?
What does it mean for our children when we can demonstrate all forms of resistance, including joy and peace? Or for our legacies when
FIRE isn’t just a set of rules or formulas, it’s a mindset shift that opens up new possibilities for how to work, invest, and retire. And if Black History Month is a celebration of how people can use their agency and solidarity to shape their own destinies, pursuing financial independence is a conversation worth having.
