We were lucky to catch up with Austin Railey recently and have shared our conversation below.

Austin, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Alright, so you had your idea and then what happened? Can you walk us through the story of how you went from just an idea to executing on the idea

The idea of creating a nonprofit to support a specific population is not new, but executing that vision can be daunting. Cincinnati, though a midsized city in the Midwest, is home to over 25,000 boys and young men of color between the ages of 0 and 21. Addressing the needs of this non-monolithic group—whose challenges range from lack of transportation and food insecurity to low graduation rates, homelessness, and missing essential resources before even turning 18—was a monumental task. Doing so in the midst of a global pandemic made it even more complex.

Trying to encompass all these issues within one organization required intentional thought—not just about how to do it, but more importantly, about who would help make it successful. The people we brought together would ultimately become our greatest asset in founding My Brother’s Keeper Cincinnati.

Interestingly enough, our team initially began as two separate groups. On one side, there was me—working with U.S. Senator Sherrod Brown’s office—focused on leveraging government relationships to fund initiatives for young boys of color. On the other side was a group of successful professionals, all neighbors, deeply committed to promoting financial literacy among youth. Fortunately, the Senator’s office had their ears to the ground and connected us early on.

What followed was an unexpected but powerful collaboration: myself, then just 26, and a group mostly 45 and older. While our visions sometimes differed, our shared mission—to serve young boys of color—aligned us.

At our first virtual meeting, I quickly noticed that, despite being the youngest in the room, I had the most direct experience in this specific work, thanks to my involvement with the Obama Foundation and the MBK Alliance. That background positioned me in a leadership role sooner than I had anticipated.

There were lots of ideas on the table: a yearly conference, a summer program, a series of panels and community activities. But ultimately, we landed on creating a program focused on equipping young men with tools for financial literacy and long-term success. I remember saying, “That’s a great idea—but that’s a program, not a nonprofit organization.”

What we needed was to build something that not only provided value but truly represented the needs and identity of our young men. We agreed to move forward by partnering with and learning from other MBK chapters around the country, borrowing their best practices to shape our own 501(c)(3).

One of our biggest lessons during that time was that relationships were the key to our ability to execute—not just the mission itself. For example, through our partnership with MBK Cambridge, we were connected to a reputable law firm in Boston that provided over $100,000 in pro bono legal work to help us officially launch.

Over time, it was relationships like that—built through our tight-knit, mission-driven group—that helped us secure more than $300,000 in combined value through professional services, supplies, direct capital, and volunteer hours. These connections brought our vision to life and turned the dream of supporting young boys of color in Cincinnati into a reality.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

My name is Austin Railey III, born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio—so the Midwest has always been home. I earned both my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Public Administration with the initial goal of becoming a city manager. Public service runs in my blood—my aunt and mentor were both deeply involved in local government, and their example inspired me to follow a similar path.

I began my career working for local council members across various Ohio cities, bridging the gap between citizens’ needs and the responsibilities of government. What I quickly realized was that while I valued policy, I was most energized by the direct, human side of the work—connecting with people, engaging in real conversations, and helping shape actionable solutions. Sitting behind a desk waiting for bureaucracy to do its part didn’t fulfill me the way being in the room, facilitating progress, and building understanding did.

That clarity led me into the Government Affairs space, where I could still influence policy but wasn’t boxed into one aspect of its execution. Government—especially when elected officials are involved—can be intimidating and confusing. But I’ve found my strength lies in my ability to move fluidly between the elected side, the administrative side, and the community side, translating across all three to move ideas forward.

My ability to understand policy and also genuinely connect with people, regardless of background or affiliation, has been a powerful asset. Over time, I’ve become a trusted advocate for issues I care deeply about—ranging from small business support to library systems, and more recently, early childhood education.

While some refer to what I do as lobbying—which can carry a negative connotation depending on where you’re from—I embrace the title because I believe people like me need to be in this space. I use my voice to tell the stories of those whose work and passion fuel the fields I represent. Government often struggles to see both the forest and the tree in front of them—and my role is to help them see both clearly, by bringing the human element into policy discussions.

I’ve worked with major organizations like Procter & Gamble and the Dayton Metro Library system, always guided by a strong moral compass and a commitment to purpose. That same passion drives my advocacy for My Brother’s Keeper Cincinnati, a nonprofit I help lead in support of young men of color.

In a field where there are few lobbyists of color, especially in this region, I also recognize that my presence is powerful. I represent what others can become—I am living proof that this space can and should be more inclusive. My goal is not just to advocate for issues, but to open doors for others to enter this work and shape the future alongside me.

How about pivoting – can you share the story of a time you’ve had to pivot?

“Don’t Panic, Just Pivot” — A Guiding Principle in Action

This question resonates deeply with me because I live by the statement: “Don’t panic, just pivot.” It has become my guiding principle for navigating obstacles, especially those that arise at inconvenient or critical moments.

When our organization, MBK Cincinnati, first launched, we focused on creating financial literacy opportunities for young men of color. It made perfect sense—many of our board members and volunteers had professional experience in finance or education, and we saw a clear need. With a strong vision in place, we were able to engage local school districts with a program that not only met a vital student need but also aligned with the state’s new financial literacy standards. It was a win-win: students gained essential life skills, schools met state mandates, and we were able to make meaningful impact.

After months of hard work, we finally established our program within a school. Then, unexpectedly, we received an invitation from the Obama Foundation: “We are proud to invite your organization to be a part of the MBK National Alliance.”

It was an incredible moment—one we knew we couldn’t turn down. After all, you don’t say no to the President’s nonprofit foundation.

But this opportunity came with a twist.

The MBK Alliance operates under a different framework, one built around six key milestones designed to support young men of color throughout their development:

Entering school ready to learn

Reading at grade level by third grade

Graduating from high school

Completing post-secondary education or training

Securing employment once out of school

Staying safe from violent crime

Each of these pillars is commendable, but we quickly realized our financial literacy focus didn’t neatly align with any of them in a direct or measurable way. Still, we couldn’t ignore the opportunity. The Alliance offered a chance to scale, gain access to a national network, and leverage new resources we hadn’t previously imagined.

So, we were at a crossroads.

We held several deep discussions as a board. First, should we pivot at all? And second, if we did, could we authentically fit into the mold of one of MBK’s six milestones? Many board members were deeply passionate about the work we were already doing. They feared losing our identity or watering down our mission. But I, along with our board president, made a case: it was time to evolve.

In those conversations, I realized something crucial. It wasn’t that our board was against pivoting—they were concerned about capacity. Most of our board members were already balancing full-time jobs. A shift like this wouldn’t just change what we did; it would change how we worked. It would require more time, more data, and more collaboration. That’s a heavy ask for a volunteer-led organization.

After careful consideration, we found common ground. Our existing demographic already served high school students—primarily those in 10th, 11th, and 12th grade. This naturally aligned with the MBK milestone of graduating from high school. With some intentional redesign, we could integrate graduation-focused metrics into our current financial literacy programming. This wouldn’t require abandoning our roots, but rather expanding our approach.

It wasn’t easy. It didn’t happen overnight. But by pivoting, we transitioned from being an organization focused solely on financial literacy to one holistically invested in the success of young men of color. We started tracking graduation rates, broadening our curriculum, and reframing how we told our story in the community.

And through it all, we never panicked. We just pivoted.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

The idea of unlearning behaviors isn’t new. From the very beginning of time, all living things on Earth have had to evolve—learning, adapting, and unlearning—to survive. That said, just because it’s common doesn’t mean it’s easy.

For me, the lesson I had to unlearn was about faith—specifically, how it influences my decisions and the way I move through life.

I come from a deeply rooted Baptist background. Growing up, it was second nature to lean on scripture, hymns, and church teachings—especially ones about resilience, perseverance, and trusting that God would make a way through any obstacle. That belief system became a foundation for me. But I often found myself saying: “It’s easy to talk about faith when everything is going well.” When things fall apart, faith feels very different, and people respond to that pressure in very different ways.

For me, faith was never a crutch—but I realized it had sometimes become an anchor, keeping me stuck instead of helping me move. And that’s where the unlearning had to begin.

It reminds me of the well-known parable of the drowning man:

While out to sea, a boat shipwrecks, and there’s only one survivor. He clings to a piece of debris and prays:
“God, please save me.”

Soon after, another boat comes by and offers help.
“No thanks,” the man says. “I’m waiting for God to save me.”

A little while later, another boat comes along with the same offer.
Again, he refuses: “I’m waiting for God to save me.”

Eventually, he drowns. When he reaches Heaven, he asks God:
“Why didn’t you save me?”

God replies: “I sent you two boats, dummy!”

That parable hit home. I realized I had spent so much time waiting on signs, waiting on some big, divine instruction—as if faith was supposed to be this step-by-step GPS guiding me exactly where to go and how to handle every challenge.

But life doesn’t work like that. Faith isn’t always a directive. Sometimes it’s a companion. I had to learn to walk with faith—not behind it, not waiting on it, but walking with it. Understanding that the principles I’ve learned, the values instilled in me, and the experiences I’ve lived are what inform my decisions now. Faith is there, always, but it’s not making the moves for me.

Letting faith lead without clarity can sometimes paralyze you—keep you from chasing the things you really desire because you’re waiting for some perfect, obvious signal. I didn’t want that to be the story of my life.

Now, I look at faith as something growing with me—not something static or rigid. Every new experience, every challenge, every success adds depth to it. I’ve learned to appreciate it more each day, not because I’m blindly following it, but because it’s walking beside me as I pursue what I truly feel called to do.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.mbkcincinnati.org/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ceasar_the3rd/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/austinraileyiii