Cory Bowman is stepping into the political spotlight in a way few expected, especially given his family ties. As the half-brother of Vice President JD Vance, his sudden bid for mayor of Cincinnati has turned heads, not just because of his famous sibling but because of the uphill battle he’s facing. Bowman, a 36-year-old pastor and small business owner, didn’t grow up with Vance. Their connection came later, as teenagers, when they realized they shared the same father, Donald Bowman, who passed away in 2023.
While Vance was raised by his grandparents in Middletown, Ohio, Cory grew up on a farm near Hamilton, a different world in many ways. Yet, despite their separate upbringings, they found common ground—both went to college in Ohio, started families around the same time, and now, unexpectedly, both are in politics.
Coffee Shop Pastor to Politician: Cory Bowman, JD Vance’s Brother, Runs for Cincinnati Mayor With Wife & Kids by His Side
Bowman’s campaign is fascinating because it’s not just a story about a relative riding on coattails. He insists Vance isn’t pulling strings behind the scenes. In fact, he didn’t even tell his brother he was running until after he’d filed the paperwork. That independence is part of his appeal—he’s positioning himself as an outsider, a guy who runs a coffee shop, preaches at a nondenominational church, and genuinely wants to fix what he sees as Cincinnati’s biggest problems. His platform is a mix of conservative staples—lower property taxes, anti-abortion policies, and public safety—but also local gripes, like the city’s slow response to snowstorms and zoning laws that he argues are pushing people out.
The primary results on May 6, 2025, were both a victory and a reality check. Bowman came in second with just under 13% of the vote, enough to advance to the November general election but miles behind the incumbent, Democrat Aftab Pureval, who crushed it with over 82%. The numbers don’t lie—Cincinnati is deep blue, and no Republican has won the mayor’s office in more than half a century.
The last GOP candidate to even try was in 2009, and he got wiped out. Bowman knows the odds are against him, but he’s banking on low turnout and voter dissatisfaction to close the gap. He’s pointed out that only 10% of eligible voters showed up for the primary, suggesting there’s a silent majority that might be willing to listen.

What makes this race even more interesting is how Vance factors into it. The vice president gave Bowman a last-minute endorsement before the primary, calling him a “good guy with a heart for serving his community,” but Bowman is quick to downplay any notion that his brother is the brains behind the operation. He says their relationship is personal, not political, and that his campaign is his own. Still, the connection is impossible to ignore, especially in a year where JD Vance’s rising national profile could either help or hurt Bowman, depending on how Cincinnati voters feel about the current administration.
Bowman’s personal story adds another layer. He’s not a career politician. He and his wife, Jordan, run a coffee shop in Cincinnati, and he balances that with his work as a co-pastor. They’re expecting their fourth child soon, which means his life is already packed even without a mayoral campaign. That everyman vibe is part of his pitch—he’s not a polished insider, just someone who thinks he can do better than the current leadership. But Pureval, the incumbent, is no pushover. He’s a savvy politician with a strong base, and he’s already framing the race as a choice between proven leadership and risky change.
The next few months will test whether Cory Bowman’s message can break through. He’s got energy, a compelling backstory, and just enough name recognition to get people curious. But Cincinnati is a tough nut to crack for Republicans, and without a major shift in voter sentiment, Pureval is still the heavy favorite. Bowman’s best shot might be making the race competitive enough to force a real debate on issues like taxes, crime, and housing, rather than letting it be a foregone conclusion. Whether he wins or loses, his campaign is already a notable footnote in Ohio politics—a reminder that family ties can open doors, but they don’t guarantee victory.