My story begins in a small town just outside Orlando, Florida, called Saint Cloud. Whenever I’m asked to share an interesting fact about myself during one of those typical icebreakers, I always say: I’m the oldest of eight children. That’s right—seven younger siblings! My oldest brother is 23, married, and has three beautiful boys of his own—my nephews, who in our family, affectionately call me “Guncle Austin.” My youngest sister is just eight and starting to discover who she wants to become in this world. I always start with my siblings because being the oldest shaped me profoundly. I am now a 26-year-old biracial, gay man living in New York City, and much of who I am today comes from what I learned growing up with such a big, vibrant family.
Being the eldest taught me responsibility, leadership, time management, organization, humor, unconditional love, and—perhaps most importantly—how to argue until the cows come home. But I couldn’t have learned these lessons without my parents and extended family, who were the literal village that raised us. My mother was just a junior in high school when I was born, which meant I was there for all of her most exciting senior-year moments: homecoming, prom, graduation—you name it. During those early years, raising me was a shared effort with my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and family friends, as my parents finished high school and began working. Yet, none of this stopped them from instilling in me a drive to aim for the stars.
In high school, I poured myself into academics, chorus, drama, marching band, and even part-time courses at our local community college, which allowed me to graduate high school with both my diploma and an associate’s degree. That drive led me to receive more college scholarships than any other student in my graduating class. In 2012, I moved nearly 1,000 miles north to New York City to attend NYU. Thanks to the two years of college credit I earned in high school, I pursued a double bachelor’s degree—drama at Tisch School of the Arts and politics at the College of Arts and Sciences.
College was a continuation of my “do too much at once” habit. I juggled shows, two degrees, two internships with federal elected officials in New York, and 2–3 paid jobs each semester to cover food and housing. I studied abroad in two countries, led a 10-person team on a two-week service trip in the Dominican Republic, and was honored as a Martin Luther King Jr. Scholar. Looking back, it was exhausting, but it built a foundation of resilience and adaptability that has carried me ever since.
After graduating in 2016, I began my first “real” job as a Field Organizer on Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign. Campaign work was intense: 60–80 hours a week, every week. Unlike before, I had to dedicate my whole self to a single mission. It was challenging, but it paid off. I led the most active volunteers of any organizer in the state and registered hundreds of voters each month. After the heartbreak of the 2016 election, I returned to theater, performing regionally across the U.S., on a Mediterranean cruise, in a touring Off-Broadway hit, and even in Japan with an international Disney concert tour.
By 2019, I had traveled extensively and grown tremendously. Returning from Japan, I refocused on public service and pursued a Master’s in Public Administration at the University of Central Florida online. I returned to New York, working as Director of Operations for a small Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion consultancy. Then 2020 arrived. I was halfway through my degree, had just moved apartments, and launched my own small LLC, the Austin Rivers Voice and Acting Studio, teaching private lessons. Then COVID-19 hit.
By sheer luck, my master’s program and DEI job were already fully virtual, and my studio transitioned online smoothly. I quarantined with three other brilliant, driven, gay Black men—one of whom became my little quarantine love story. With theater shut down, I asked myself: how could I use this unexpected time to make an impact? That’s how Knit the Rainbow, Inc. was born.
My journey into knitting began in Japan on the Shinkansen Bullet Trains, seeking something productive to do on long rides. With a castmate’s guidance and YouTube tutorials, I taught myself the craft. My first project—a baby blanket for a nephew—was a disaster: uneven and tiny. But as knitters say, everyone frogged their first project, and I did too.
By March 2020, I knew I wanted to start a nonprofit. I researched causes and was shocked by the statistics on LGBTQ+ youth homelessness: roughly 550,000 homeless LGBTQ+ youth in the U.S., with at least 8,000 in New York City alone, and only 350 dedicated shelter beds. As a Black gay man who had just aged out of youth services, I was mortified I hadn’t known these numbers. I decided to take action. While I couldn’t open a shelter, I could knit. Knit the Rainbow was born: a nonprofit providing handmade knit and crochet winter garments—scarves, hats, gloves, sweaters—to homeless LGBTQ+ youth in New York City.
Finding board members was my first hurdle. I needed at least three to form a nonprofit. After reaching out to friends, I found Charlie Ferussi and Nishant Makhija, and we filed for 501(c)(3) status—approved just six weeks later. We added Cecilia Nelson-Hurt and Pilar Adara to bring diverse voices to the board. Our official launch was June 30, 2020—on the final day of Pride Month. We began with four programs: Garment Collection, Pattern Development, Community Outreach, and Educating the Masses.
The response was overwhelming. Within two months, I was speaking on panels, connecting with fiber artists nationwide, and receiving monetary and garment donations. By our first virtual gala in October 2020, we raised $3,000 in one night. In our first six months, we collected over 2,000 garments, distributed 1,100 directly to youth, and raised over $20,000. My small NYC apartment overflowed with knitwear, and my heart overflowed with joy knowing we were making a tangible difference.
Today, Knit the Rainbow continues to grow. We receive and distribute hundreds of garments monthly, expand programs, and forge partnerships with LGBTQ+ organizations citywide. My quarantine love, Marquez Linder, serves as our graphic designer and social media manager, helping us gain hundreds of followers each month. Friends, family, and the supportive fiber arts community continue to propel KtR forward.
Looking ahead, Knit the Rainbow aims to serve homeless LGBTQ+ youth across the U.S., eventually opening an office with a walk-in pantry, creative spaces, and much more. While KtR began as my dream, it thrives because of the incredible people around me. I am endlessly grateful for this community and excited for what the next 1, 5, or 25 years hold.
Thank you for reading.
