03/09/2025
44 years ago today, I was born at Hialeah Hospital into a Cuban family that had left everything behind in 1956 for a new beginning in the U.S.
My childhood was freedom—riding bikes across Miami from sunrise to sunset, art always shaping my path. My family’s journey was one of resilience. My father, Juan Jose Sagaró, was born in Santiago, Cuba. His family first settled in New York before making their way to Miami. My mother’s side came from Wajay, Cuba, and built a life in Florida.
Before leaving Cuba, my grandfather ran a ranch where my cousins performed live rodeo shows, trained horses, and worked on a coffee and flower farm. My father’s side was deeply connected to politics, medicine, and the arts, even contributing to the famous statues and busts still standing in Havana today.
But history took its toll. My father lost his own father young, as political turmoil and revolution forced the Sagaró family to flee Cuba—not once, but twice. They fought for change, but when Castro seized power, they lost everything: businesses, homes, cars, even the zoo they had ties to. With no future in Cuba, they left for good, rebuilding their lives in New York.
Despite it all, my father pushed forward. He attended military school, found discipline in martial arts, and stepped into adulthood at 14—a path I would unknowingly follow years later.
Their struggles became my foundation. Everything I’ve built—every dream I’ve chased—stands on the strength of those who came before me.
