My grandparents never owned crypto. But they’ve always known their money.
My grandfather carries cash – not in a wallet, not zipped up or tucked away – but haphazardly folded into his shirt pocket. He slips them behind pages of an old diary, or wedged between faded receipts in a drawer by the TV. It’s never a lot. Just enough to feel like someone thought ahead.
When I was younger and needed money for school supplies, snacks, or a rickshaw ride, he’d pull out a note as if it had been waiting there just for me. He isn’t flashy, but he never withholds. He gives with the confidence of someone who’s always kept enough.
Generous in a way only the truly clever with money know how to be.
My grandmother’s world runs on order. Everything has its place, including her money.
She keeps multiple purses, each with its own… ecosystem of cash – One for daily use, one “just in case,” and a few reserved for emergencies. Although what qualifies as an emergency is a mystery to the rest of us.
It doesn’t matter. She knows.
Her cash is never crumpled like my grandfather’s. She flattens each note, smoothing the corners on her knee with the same care people probably give to love letters. She owns a credit card now… reluctantly. Only for hospital visits, she says, tapping it like it’s a visa to a foreign place she doesn’t plan to stay long in.
She may feel weary, but she’s certainly found her footing with it.
My other grandmother is sharper than most people I know. The kind of woman you don’t challenge on numbers – unless you’re ready to lose.
She tracks every rupee. Not obsessively, just with precision. She built a portfolio before most women her age knew what one was. Asks the right questions. Signs papers others said she couldn’t. At a time when women didn’t handle money, she made sure no one else would control hers.
If she’d been born in a different time, she wouldn’t just have worked at a bank. She’d have run it.
Owned it.
What unites all three of them is this – They’re not afraid of money.
They’ve earned it, saved it, stretched it. Handled recessions, family emergencies, rising prices. Built safety nets and made it work – Quietly, with dignity.
Over time, they adapted to banks. Cards. When the pandemic hit, they paid online – Tapping, typing, hesitating, trying again. Asking questions. Writing things down. Getting it done.
It was during that time that I realised… they’re not resistant to change. They’re just rarely invited into it.
These are my grandparents, and I don’t want the future to leave them behind.
When I told them I write about crypto, they blinked.
“So… my money lives in the air now?”
“And what if the internet goes off?”
“Is there a switch to this thing?”
“Is this… real?”
They laugh. Not out of dismissal, but nervousness. Because no one ever explained it in a way that made sense to them.
They don’t talk about capital flows or on-chain data. But they understand value.
Liquidity.
Timing.
Discipline.
Risk.
They’ve lived it, in the most human way possible.
The world is changing. They see that. They’re not fighting it. They’re just waiting for someone to open the door. It’s not that they can’t or don’t want to learn.
It’s that no one ever made it feel like it was meant for them.
So, who’s got a seat at the crypto table?
The average crypto holder is easy to spot – Not by face, but by data.
A recent report by CryptoQuant revealed that 61% of investors are between the ages of 25 and 44. In fact, over a third fall into the 25-34 age bracket. Most are men. Most have degrees.
Source: Cryptoquant
Almost half of them hold a Bachelor’s. Another 28% have gone further. In short – Crypto is young, male, educated, and digitally fluent.
Not a flaw. Just a fact.
However, it also means this financial frontier is being shaped by a very specific kind of user. Everyone else? Still catching up. Or worse – Left behind. And often, the ones furthest from this future aren’t those without money or interest.
They’re just older.
In a system built on interfaces and immediacy, age can feel like the most invisible barrier of all.
And yes, older adults should be cautious with high-risk assets. But caution isn’t the same as exclusion. If they want in, they should be empowered to participate safely. Especially now. With crypto scams targeting seniors on the rise, education isn’t optional – It’s essential.
If you have to explain it, it’s probably broken…
Despite its promises of financial inclusion, crypto still often feels like a gated club – Coded by insiders, for insiders. And when you’re older, unfamiliar, and unsure, the lockout isn’t just technical.
It’s emotional.
Ask Jess Houlgrave, CEO of Reown, what holds people back from crypto, and she doesn’t start with regulation or volatility. She starts with the login screen. Reown offers social logins – Email, Google, Apple – because for someone new, that first familiar click can be the difference between trying and walking away.
However, the challenge goes deeper. Houlgrave called it the intimidation factor, when she spoke to AMBCrypto.
The intimidation factor isn’t just about complexity… it’s about consequence. When you’ve spent a lifetime being told to double-check the small print, clicking the wrong button on an unfamiliar app will feel reasonably dangerous.
“Stories of scams and drained accounts naturally create skepticism.”
For older users, those who’ve spent decades protecting pensions and avoiding fine print, skepticism is wisdom.
Anthony Anzalone, founder of XION, echoed this sentiment when he spoke to AMBCrypto.
“You have to meet users where they are, rather than expecting them to come to you.”
No gas fees. No jargon. No cryptographic walls. Apps should mirror daily life – Email logins, dollar balances, seamless design. Dignity lives in the details. Legible fonts. Flows that make sense.
Because the moment you ask someone to understand something they’ve never even heard of, you’ve already made them feel like they don’t belong.
Ronald Yung of RaveDAO drew a parallel when he said,
“Music has always been a universal language – something that transcends age, background, or culture. That same principle should apply to crypto.”
Way too often, we build for cleverness, not clarity. And when we do, we don’t just lose users – We lose people. We shut them out of the future we claim is for everyone. The fix? Intuitive design. Interfaces that feel instinctive, comfortable. Maybe even guided. In fact, Yung pointed to ChatGPT and the iPhone. Not powerful because they’re complex, but because they’re simple and easy.
Because there’s a world of difference between being curious and being confident. Most of the people we leave behind aren’t unwilling. They’re just tired of being made to feel like the problem.
Inclusion isn’t about adding features. It’s about subtracting fear. And that starts with design.
Crypto needs a grandma mode
If this system is going to live up to its promise of decentralization, it must include everyone – Especially the silver-haired crowd it’s left behind.
These are the very people who spent lifetimes building the systems we’re now trying to reinvent. For them, support should be human. Real-time chat. Phone calls. Gentle nudges. Big fonts. No dark patterns. And a test mode – with fake assets – for low-stakes learning.
No memespeak. No “wen moon.”
Speak like someone’s grandfather is reading, because maybe he is.
Yulia Gontar of Super Protocol said it plainly when he said,
“Most crypto products today still aren’t accessible – not just to older adults, but even to the average internet user.”
And, she’s right. If decentralization is meant to remove barriers, why do so many systems feel like they’ve simply replaced one form of gatekeeping with another?
Whitepapers, instead of fine print. DAOs, instead of bankers. The distance is as it is.
That’s why her team is reimagining the architecture itself – An AI marketplace that works without assuming backend knowledge.
Inclusion isn’t just a feature. It should be a blueprint.
Think like they matter!
If your app needs a ten-step explainer, a seed phase, and a Reddit thread to function, your grandparents aren’t the problem. Instead, the system is.
Crypto has made it across galaxies, bridged chains, and even landed on Burger King menus. However, it still hasn’t made it into my grandmother’s purse. And honestly? That’s wild.
The technology is sound. The vision is ambitious. The intention – to create open, inclusive financial systems – is noble. Alas, the learning still feels like trying to FaceTime with a landline. While design is an integral part of the needed improvements, there is a psychological element to this that we need to think of.
Shreya Bajaj, co-founder of Easy Hai – a platform that helps senior citizens learn tech – reminded me of something vital – Start with motivation.
Most seniors aren’t trying to ape into the next memecoin. They just want to understand the tools their families use. Sometimes, all it takes is one grandchild, a quiet afternoon, and a little patience.
Not every session ends in a MetaMask download. However, that moment of time and intention, it opens a door.
Bajaj’s second point landed harder – Don’t talk down. These are people who’ve run businesses, raised children, managed homes, and made tough decisions long before the word “on-chain” existed. They may not know the jargon, but they know trust, value, and loss. What they don’t need is to be made to feel small in a space that claims to be for everyone.
Everyone’s built different. Some will dive in, others will sit back. The job isn’t to push – It’s to pace. Because respect is the difference between educating and excluding.
Real inclusion isn’t flashy. It’s quiet. It looks like clear buttons, simpler words, fewer assumptions.
And maybe, a place to safely stash a little snack money – Just in case.