“I still have my first house.”
This comes from the woman who’s portrayed some of TV and film’s most unforgettable characters—from Cookie Lyon to Katherine Johnson—and it’s safe to say, Taraji P. Henson has been playing the long game with her money from day one. And now, as her Boris Lawrence Henson Foundation fights to maintain mental health resources for Black communities amid widespread DEI cutbacks, that same financial foresight is proving more valuable than ever.
“By the grace of God, literally, we’re still able to hold on, and it’ll take us to save us,” Henson tells me when I ask how her foundation is weathering the storm. “We’ve had to change some of the terms and the way we say things so that we don’t get punished. But yeah, we’ve been able to stay afloat.”
Just last weekend, her foundation opened its fourth SheCare Wellness Pod at Coppin State University. These mental health resources on HBCU campuses represent a significant investment at a time when many organizations are scaling back similar initiatives.
The foundation’s resilience mirrors Henson’s personal approach to finances. While many entertainers succumb to lifestyle creep with their first big check, Henson took a wildly different path. “I watched people blow through their money just because they booked a pilot and got a big lump sum,” she says. “Then the show gets canceled in two months and they have to sell it all.”
Her alternative? “I was very frugal. I didn’t buy my house until I knew the show got picked up for another season. I didn’t spend beyond my means.”
When I mention how other celebrities have described splurging on jewelry or cars with their first major paydays (for example, Lala Anthony recently shared with me that she learned this lesson the hard way), Henson cuts in quickly. “I couldn’t. I had a kid,” she says. “His education was always important to me. I didn’t want him to struggle in the public school system. I sacrificed the fancy car for his school. That was important to me.”
Henson also doesn’t hesitate when I ask about the best financial advice she’s received.
“To invest in property,” she says. “I was smart enough to know not to invest in stocks because I just didn’t understand it. Quick money never feels safe. That’s like gambling, and I’ve never been a gambler.”
This property-first mentality has translated into how she approaches her foundation’s work, building sustainable resources on HBCU campuses rather than flashier, less permanent initiatives.
When asked about her vision for these wellness pods across HBCUs, Henson shared, “Hopefully, they will be the next generation where the stigmatism doesn’t exist anymore. And they can build upon what we started.”
Her foundation also hosted its inaugural Can We Talk Youth Summit over the weekend, focusing on practical mental health support for young people. “Everybody doesn’t understand going to sit down and talk to a therapist, or have access to one,” Henson points out. “So meet them on campus, in a yoga class. Teach them about the nervous system and how movement and African dance helps move energy through your body.”
Throughout our talk, Henson repeatedly connects financial pressure and mental health challenges. “We were taught to grind, grind, grind, work hard until you almost burnt out,” she says.
“No one told me to rest.”