Can a Brand Really Start From Nothing?

The business world thrives on origin myths. Think of Apple in a garage or Amazon springing from a Seattle basement. These stories of ingenuity and grit have become foundational to how we understand success. But are they true? Or, more to the point, does it even matter if they’re true? What if most brands, even the ones we admire for their supposed scrappiness, were just very shiny byproducts of trust funds, family connections, and a social safety net the rest of us could only dream about? This isn’t just a question of history. It’s a question of who gets to shape the future of innovation, and who doesn’t.

The Cushion Theory of Risk-Taking

It's obvious that money makes everything easier, including risk. A 2021 report showed that 60% of U.S. entrepreneurs come from upper-middle-class or wealthy families. In other words, most “scrappy” entrepreneurs were cushioned by financial safety nets—a fact that rarely makes it into their TED Talks.

Consider Elon Musk, that poster child for unrelenting ambition. His early ventures were supported by family money, much of it tied to his father’s emerald mines in apartheid-era South Africa. Musk’s success isn’t invalid because of this, but it complicates the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” narrative that surrounds him. He’s not alone. Jeff Bezos received a $250,000 loan from his parents to start Amazon. Steve Jobs’s adoptive father mortgaged his house to fund his son’s ambitions. None of this makes these founders less talented. It just makes them… cushioned.

The Invisible Hand That Writes Checks

The bootstrap myth works because it’s emotionally satisfying. It tells us that anyone can succeed, no matter their starting point. But if we’re honest, the myth is a lie. Most entrepreneurs start with capital - whether that’s money, connections, or both - and those who don’t often don’t make it far.

Take venture capital. In theory, it’s supposed to fund the best ideas. In practice, it funds the founders who fit a certain mold. A 2020 Crunchbase report revealed that only 2.3% of VC funding went to women-led startups, and even less went to minority founders. This, plainly, is a gatekeeping mechanism. Wealth begets wealth, and access begets access. If you don’t already have a foot in the door, you might not even find the building.

Outliers in the Outfield

Do brands exist that truly started from nothing? Yes, but they’re the exceptions, not the rule. Consider FUBU, founded by Daymond John. John began by sewing hats himself and selling them on the streets of Queens. He reinvested every penny until FUBU became a global brand. It’s an inspiring story, but it’s also vanishingly rare. For every Daymond John, there are a hundred founders with trust funds who never had to sell hats on the corner.

Even brands that appear grassroots often aren’t. Warby Parker, the eyewear disruptor, likes to talk about its founders’ struggles to afford glasses. Less mentioned is their access to Wharton’s resources and alumni network. Their story isn’t false, but it’s curated to fit the scrappy narrative that sells so well.

The Myth Is the Message

Why does this matter? Because the myth of the self-made entrepreneur shapes how we think about opportunity. It suggests that anyone can succeed with enough grit, which conveniently lets us ignore the barriers that keep so many people from even trying.

A 2019 Kauffman Foundation study found that lack of access to capital is the number one barrier for entrepreneurs from low-income backgrounds. Without personal savings or wealthy friends and family, most aspiring founders never get their ideas off the ground. The result is a business landscape dominated by people who already had advantages: financial, social, or both.

What Would Real Equity Look Like?

If we’re serious about innovation, we need to dismantle the systems that privilege certain founders over others. This means expanding access to small-business loans, grants, and other funding sources for underrepresented entrepreneurs. It also means rethinking how we allocate venture capital. Instead of funding people who “look like” successful founders, why not fund people with genuinely groundbreaking ideas; even if they come from outside the usual networks?

Consumers have a role to play, too. By supporting brands that prioritize equity and transparency, we can shift the marketplace toward a fairer model. It won’t be easy, but it’s necessary. Because until we confront the truth about how brands are born, we’ll keep perpetuating a system where the winners were chosen long before the game even started.

In the end, the question isn’t whether trust funds are bad. It’s whether they’ve become a silent prerequisite for success. And if they have, what does that say about the stories we tell, and the ones we choose to believe?