In January of 2019, Naj Austin received an email that would change her life. A New York Times journalist wanted to write about her new concept: Ethel’s Club, a social and wellness space for people of color in Brooklyn.
Except… it didn’t exist yet.
She’d only launched an Instagram page a week and a half before, along with a basic Wix landing page. Still, more than 600 people had already signed up for the waiting list. That was the sum total of the business at that point—a waiting list and a rough idea.
And now The New York Times was calling.
When you get that kind of email, you answer. Even if your palms are sweaty and your heart’s racing, you answer. Naj said yes. And when they asked her questions, she was transparent: the concept was still being built, but she planned to launch in August.
That moment was both terrifying and thrilling. It’s easy to call it luck because New York Times had called. But it wasn’t just luck. She had built something compelling enough that one of the biggest media outlets in the world could already see story-worthiness in it!
And more importantly—Naj could execute.
That’s the part of the story that too often gets lost. This wasn’t just about a viral moment or early press. Naj knew how to turn attention into momentum, ideas into execution, and belonging into a business model. Over the next several years, she would:
Build the first private social and wellness club specifically designed for people of color in Brooklyn
Pivot the community online in under 24 hours when COVID hit
Raise funding after learning how to fundraise the right way
Grow the idea into Somewhere Good, a new kind of digital social platform
Bring on Gabrielle Union as an investor and partner
And she did all of this while building as a multihyphenate: writer, creative, startup founder, community builder, brand architect, ecosystem thinker.
This is the story of how she did it, and the lessons founders can use from her journey to build businesses that truly center community.
The Idea: Belonging as a Business Premise
If you’re a person of color in America—or anywhere you’re in the minority—you know the feeling: scrolling through apps, browsing spaces, searching for products, and realizing none of this was made with you in mind.
Naj felt that frustration sharply when she was searching for a Black therapist. Sure, platforms like Zocdoc could help you find a therapist—but you couldn’t filter by race, culture, or shared background. The internet was full of services, but nothing that spoke directly to her experience.
That everyday inconvenience mirrored a bigger problem: a world where Black people were rarely seen as the default audience for anything—physical places, online platforms, cultural products, professional spaces. The energy was always “you can come here too,” never “we made this for you.”
Naj imagined something different: a curated physical space for Black people and people of color. Somewhere that didn’t just tolerate you—but centered you. Where you didn’t have to squint to feel seen. Where community wasn’t an afterthought—it was the product.
“I spent a lot of time thinking about how we could change that narrative.”
It wasn’t just about aesthetics. Naj was also thinking deeply about loneliness—about how traditional institutions of belonging (like religion) were declining in modern life, leaving people to look for new places to form community.
Big brands like Peloton and SoulCycle were tapping into that need—but not through the lens of identity. For Naj, identity wasn’t a part of her experience—it was the experience. And no one was building for it.
Testing the Concept, Building in Public
Naj didn’t overthink the first steps. She made a quick Wix site. She launched an Instagram page. She shared the concept before it was fully formed.
Within 10 days: 600 people on the waitlist.
Then: The New York Times in her inbox.
What founders can learn here: you don’t need permission to test demand. Naj didn’t spend months perfecting a business plan. She used a small, lightweight test to see if her idea resonated.
By the time Ethel’s Club formally launched in Brooklyn later that year, she knew two things:
The need was real.
Her audience would show up when she built something for them.
Curating the Experience: Small by Design
One of the most radical decisions Naj made was to intentionally keep things small.
Ethel’s Club wasn’t going to be a massive coworking warehouse like WeWork or The Wing. Naj and her team zoned the physical space so that no more than seven people could gather at a time. They structured the layout to force intimacy—to make sure people actually met each other, not just occupied the same space.
Where other founders think, “How do I maximize attendance?” Naj thought, “How do I maximize connection?”
“We wanted to make sure that not only were people walking into a space designed with them in mind, but that once they were there, we’d thought about what that process was like in terms of connecting with one another.”
That intentionality carried into every detail—from furniture choices to event programming.
Her north star? Disney. Not because Disney is small—but because Disney has brand clarity. Ask anyone to describe Disney and they’ll say the same thing. Naj wanted that kind of clarity for her community: “When you hear our name, you know exactly what we stand for.”
And that clarity paid off, especially when crisis hit.
The Pivot: Moving Online in 24 Hours
When COVID-19 arrived, the Ethel’s Club team didn’t hesitate. Naj walked into a team meeting and said: “I think we have to shut down the clubhouse.”
The team didn’t argue. They agreed. And within 24 hours, they had pivoted the entire business online.
The design team worked through the night creating a digital experience.
The brand team adjusted messaging, copy, and visual language.
The programming team adapted in-person events into virtual formats.
They launched the Care for Your Homies digital membership immediately, offering online wellness events, creative programming, and cultural spaces that translated the intimacy of their in-person gatherings into virtual connection.
Where other startups scrambled for months to pivot, Naj’s team moved overnight. Why? Systems. Clarity. Vision. Speed. They weren’t scrambling to figure out who they were in the middle of a crisis—they already knew.
Building the Right Team
That clarity started with her team. Remarkably, Naj didn’t have to recruit heavily for talent. After the NYT piece dropped, aligned people found her.
They emailed, DMed, messaged her: “I believe in this. I want to help build it.”
“Almost everyone came after the New York Times piece. People emailed me like, ‘I’ve been looking for something like this, and I want to be part of it.’”
Naj made sure her team didn’t just work for the vision—they owned it. Everyone had a voice in decisions. Everyone had skin in the game.
That collective ownership is why the pivot worked. When you hire aligned people, and when you make sure they feel trusted, they’ll run with the mission when it matters most.
A Smarter Way to Raise Funding
At first, Naj got fundraising all wrong. She DMed people on Twitter. She ended up pitching investors who didn’t understand the problem.
“People literally asked me, ‘Do people of color really struggle that much? Are there really that many people of color?’ Just horrifying.”
It wasn’t until she paused and recalibrated that things shifted. Naj wrote down a simple question:
Who do I actually want to work with for the next eight years?
From there, she built a more intentional funding strategy. She said no to misaligned investors, even when it was hard. She built a table where her humanity didn’t have to be up for debate.
Her first investor? Roxane Gay. That one name opened doors. After that, introductions flowed, and Naj secured 15 investors who got it—including Gabrielle Union.
What founders can learn: Raise with alignment, not desperation.
Somewhere Good: The Next Evolution
Ethel’s Club wasn’t the endgame—it was the prototype. The next move was Somewhere Good, a digital platform for people of color to connect more intentionally online. Not another social network full of infinite scrolling and performative posting—a place designed for real connection, for listening.
It’s a lesson in vision: Naj was never just building a space. She was building an ecosystem—an entire creative, communal, and cultural experience for people who have been systemically excluded from spaces of belonging.
Lessons for Builders: How to Build Businesses That Center Community
Building community that survives beyond the hype cycle is hard, but here are the things we are learning from Naj's journey that may help(and that we will also be looking into).
1. Validate with Real People Before Building Anything Else
Naj launched Ethel’s Club with nothing more than a landing page and an idea. Why? Because talking with people beats building for people.
Here’s your version:
Set up a free landing page (Carrd, Notion, or Wix).
Add a specific headline: “A creative community for [who] to [do what].”
Add one CTA: Join the waitlist or Get early access.
Spend the next 2 weeks DMing, emailing, or talking to people you already know are in that audience.
Track why people sign up or don’t.
If no one bites? Good. You just saved yourself 6 months of building the wrong product.
Real founders test first, build second.
2. Community is a Product, Not a Feature
Most founders bolt on community—“we’ll add a Slack group later.” Naj built around community from day one.
Here’s the difference:
Don’t add community—design for it.
Map the journey: “What happens for someone between when they first join and when they feel connected?”
Design moments that move people forward on that journey: onboarding calls, welcome events, curated introductions, small group sessions.
If people feel “meh,” they leave. If people feel seen, they stay. Ethel’s Club succeeded because belonging was the product, not the bonus.
3. Build Systems Before You Think You Need Them
When COVID hit, Naj’s team pivoted in 24 hours because they already had systems.
Here’s how to use this now:
Write roles, not just tasks. Don’t just tell someone “post on social”—design what success looks like for that role.
Document your workflows in Google Docs or Notion.
Run mock “crisis days.” What happens if X breaks? Who does what?
Chaos doesn’t come with a warning. Systems give you speed when it counts—not after.
4. Choose Aligned Investors, Not Just Rich Ones
Naj wasted months pitching people who didn’t believe in her community’s value. She stopped, asked, “Who do I actually want to work with?” and built her investor list accordingly.
Your move:
Make two lists: 1) investors who align culturally or have a stake in your community’s success, 2) everyone else.
Focus your energy on List #1.
Script your filter: “We’re only bringing in investors who [shared mission] and who add value in [clear way].”
Misaligned money will cost you more than it gives you.
5. Turn Public Momentum Into Talent Pipelines
Naj’s first hires weren’t from job boards—they came through The New York Times article that spotlighted her vision. People found her.
How you do it:
Go public early. Share what you’re building before it’s perfect.
On every public post, add: “If you believe in this and want to build with us, DM me or email [address].”
Keep a Talent Bench—a spreadsheet of people who show interest, organized by skill.
Visibility is not just for PR—it’s for team building.
6. Pay People Before Platforms
Naj didn’t build Somewhere Good on the backs of unpaid community labor. She paid creators, not algorithms. She funded culture before she bought ads.
Here’s how:
Set aside at least 20–30% of your marketing budget to pay small creators, micro-influencers, or aligned communities.
Skip spending $500 on Meta ads—sponsor three newsletters or podcasts that your target audience already loves.
Build partnerships, not transactions.
Pay culture forward. Culture pays you back.
7. Scale Intimacy, Not Just Revenue
Where most founders think “growth = bigger = better,” Naj designed for depth first.
How to use that:
Set intentional caps: “We’re only taking 100 members this quarter. Why? Because we want to meet each one personally before expanding.”
Treat early customers like advisors, not just buyers. Invite them to co-create with you.
Measure success by engagement depth, not just headcount.
Big isn’t better. Better is better.
8. Design Your Funding Around Your Exit Plan
Most founders raise money because “that’s what startups do.” Naj thought bigger: What’s the long-term play? Community-first businesses don’t often fit the “scale fast, exit early” model.
For you:
Before you raise, write down: “What’s my 10-year vision for this brand?”
Map backwards: “What kind of capital supports that—not breaks it?”
Choose funding structures that match your intended scale: grants, crowdfunding, angel investors who don’t demand early exits.
Fund for the future you want, not just the sprint you’re in.
9. Own the Narrative—Before Someone Else Does
Naj got The New York Times coverage before the business even launched because she told her own story early. She controlled the framing from the beginning by putting her articulation of the idea online first. That early clarity is why NYT reached out—they saw her framing of the concept.
For founders:
Craft your brand story as soon as possible. Answer: Who is this for? Why now? What makes this culturally important?
Build relationships with aligned press before you need coverage.
Keep your receipts: testimonials, screenshots, early wins. Use those to shape your story—not just respond to it.
Your story is your strategy. Whoever controls the narrative controls the room. Make sure it’s you.
The Exit: Building for Legacy, Not Just for Launch
Naj Austin’s journey isn’t just about building one good idea—it’s about designing ecosystems that last. What she shows us is that founders build products, but builders create worlds. And when you create a world, you don’t just ask, “How do I sell this?”
You ask: “Who gets to live here, thrive here, shape here—and how do we make sure it outlives me?”
If you’re building right now—pause before you chase numbers, headlines, or outside validation. Start with alignment. Stay with discipline. And build for depth, because hype fades, but ecosystems compound.
Start small, stay intentional, scale meaningfully.
Legacy isn’t built by accident. It’s built by design.
And you? You’re the designer now.
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