A Goat Farmer Turned Strategist: A Hispanic Heritage Month Conversation

From a little boy on a goat farm in Mexico to a co-founder building something of his own in Dallas, Junior Castro reflects on family, sacrifice, identity, success and the woman whose lessons followed him every step of the way.

Before the meetings.

Before the clients.

Before 1903 Design Studio.

Before science, entrepreneurship, networking events, or conversations about what success should look like, there was a little boy spending time on his uncle’s goat farm in Mexico.

Junior Castro was born in Oak Cliff, Texas, but Mexico was never simply a place on a map or a country his family had left behind.

It was part of him.

His mother made sure of that.

Nine of her eleven siblings eventually made the journey to the United States. They came for different reasons, but Junior sees a common thread running through their stories: opportunity.

For some of the women in his family, America represented the possibility of a life beyond the expectations placed on them in their home country. For some of the men, it represented the ability to pursue a future different from the one already laid out for them.

They left behind familiarity in search of possibility.

Eventually, the responsibility for what came next would belong to their children.

During Hispanic Heritage Month, we sat down with Junior, Co-Founder and Strategist at 1903 Design Studio, not simply to talk about where he comes from, but about what we carry with us from the people who came before.

This is his story.

MEXICO: Where It Began

You were born in Oak Cliff, but Mexico was still very much a part of your childhood. When you look at that photograph of yourself as a little boy on your uncle’s goat farm, what do you see now that you couldn’t possibly have understood then?

Simplicity.

As children, we take that innocence for granted. Of course we do, we’re children. We haven’t lived long enough to understand what those moments are going to mean to us one day.

When I look at that little boy now, I wish I could tell him to soak it all in.

Be open-minded. Pay attention. Create memories. Hold onto the good ones.

I wish I could have experienced so much more of those innocent times as a child.

I couldn’t understand it then, but those experiences were already becoming part of who I would eventually be.

Nine of your mother’s eleven siblings eventually made the journey to the United States, many challenging the lives that were expected of them back home. Growing up with those stories around you, what did they teach you about opportunity, and about the price people sometimes pay to create it?

My childhood was shaped by the stories of my elders.

I saw my aunts and uncles as sources of knowledge and wisdom. My mother made it her duty that my brother and I knew and understood where we came from.

She wanted us to know her country. She wanted us to understand why they had to leave and what their decision meant for both of us.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that opportunity carries responsibility with it.

They were the pillars of our family.

As first-generation children, our responsibility was to continue the journey toward the new beginning they had started, to build on top of their hard work and sacrifices.

They created the foundation.

What we build on it is up to us.

MOM: The Woman Behind the Lessons

You’ve said that when you look at your mother, you see strength. What did strength look like in your home when you were a child and what do you understand about her sacrifices today that you couldn’t understand then?

To endure.

That is what strength looked like to me.

I saw my mother endure so much.

Now that I’m older, I’ve stopped looking at difficult moments in my life and saying, “God gave me another obstacle.”

I now call them lessons.

When you learn from those lessons, you begin to build wisdom.

My mother has experienced so many lessons in her life, and whether she believes it or not, I believe she handled them to the best of her ability.

I saw some of what she endured. I heard about other things later.

Watching her made me grow up faster because somewhere inside me, even as a kid, I hoped that one day I would be strong enough to protect her.

There are sacrifices she made that I still can’t completely understand. I’m not a parent. I’ve never had to leave my homeland and begin again in another country.

But life has given me my own experiences with pain and sacrifice.

I’d like to believe I’ve gained a little wisdom along the way.

Because of that, I can recognize some of the sacrifices she made that were invisible to me when I was younger.

Understanding them today has only strengthened the love I have for her.

Your mother believed education would create opportunities she never had, and you followed that path, eventually graduating and building a successful career in science. When did you realize that the version of success you inherited wasn’t necessarily going to be the version you kept?

(Laughs.)

I’ve loved science since I was about 12 years old. I was inspired by Steve Irwin, my Tío Pollie, animals, and the cosmos.

For a long time, I believed reaching higher positions and taking on greater responsibilities would help me grow.

I had built a successful career, and I even considered going back to school to continue my education and move into animal genetics.

But something was missing.

I have never liked complacency. To me, complacency feels like time being wasted.

“There is no peace for the man who has seen what he could become.”  -Unknown

Eventually, I knew something had to change.

Making that leap of faith was difficult because I was stepping toward an industry completely foreign to the world I knew. For a long time, I kept trying to make the old path work.

I prayed about it.

And prayed about it

Something kept pulling me in another direction.

Then one day, those prayers were answered, not necessarily on my timeline, but on His.

I met a friend who would help change my life.

And another journey began.

IDENTITY: Learning Where You Belong

You grew up in Oak Cliff during a very different time, and you’ve described learning early how to adapt to different environments without ever completely feeling like you fit into one. How did those experiences shape the way you understand people, and the way you walk into unfamiliar rooms today?

I was never really able to fit into one group.

There was always one reason or another.

I was advanced academically, so I spent time in advanced classes. I was also a talented athlete growing up. The neighborhoods I came from and the friendships I had, introduced me to completely different groups of people.

With those different environments came different kinds of pain.

Sometimes it was my own.

Sometimes it was watching what my friends were going through.

Those experiences forced me to open my eyes to what pain actually looks like and how differently people learn to cope with it.

Eventually, I learned to observe.

I would observe until I found the right question to ask or understood enough to offer an answer.

I think those experiences helped me develop something I still value today:

the power of understanding rather than simply listening.

At the end of the day, I don’t think any of us are searching our entire lives for someone who will aimlessly listen to us.

We’re searching for someone who understands us.

Your mother took you to marches when you were young because she wanted you to understand pride, rights and unity. Decades later, you found yourself marching in Dallas as an adult. What did it feel like to realize that a lesson she planted in you as a child was still there?

It meant the world to me.

I was overcome with emotion while marching.

Suddenly I was flooded with memories of the marches I attended as a child.

Back then, I couldn’t understand why I had to walk so much after already spending a long day at school & knowing I still had homework waiting for me when I got home.

I didn’t understand why my mother was so passionate.

I didn’t understand her tears.

I remember her crying while simultaneously chanting alongside thousands of strangers:

“Unidos.”

Years later, walking again, understanding finally set in.

I understood why she brought me.

I understood why she wanted me to see it.

She wanted me to understand pride. She wanted me to understand unity. She wanted me to know that I should never be ashamed of where I came from.

Decades later, there I was walking in her footsteps.

I am Mexicano.

I am proud.

More than anything, I am lucky, and thankful to God every single day for the mother I was gifted.

JUNIOR TO

DAY: What He Carries Forward

You’ve said something interesting: “Success for me has evolved into growth.” Today you’re a co-founder of 1903 Design Studio, but when you describe growth, you talk first about becoming a better son, brother, uncle and friend. Why has success become so personal for you?

For a long time, I chased the false belief that success came from monetary wealth.

In that pursuit, I pushed people away from my personal life because I thought achieving that reality was what success required.

Then life happened.

Lessons were learned.

Transitions were made.

And my eyes opened to a different truth.

Wealth comes from the love you have and the love you can create for the people around you.

Today, I can proudly say that I am a very wealthy man.

God allowed me to learn those lessons earlier than some, and now I try to cherish what I have rather than constantly measuring myself by what I don’t.

My goal is to do good.

I want to provide opportunities for other people.

One day, I hope to help create a creative community where those opportunities can blossom and lives can be changed.

That means more to me now than the version of success I used to chase.

If the little boy standing on that goat farm in Mexico could sit across from the man you are today and your mother were sitting beside him; what would you want the two of them to know?

I would tell them:

You two shaped me to never be ashamed of who I am and to be excited about the man I have yet to become.

I am filled with pride knowing that so much of my success is derived from the two of you.

I would look that little boy in his eyes and tell him to cherish every single embrace he has with his mother.

Every one.

Then I would look at my mother.

I don’t think any words would be needed.

Our foreheads would touch.

And that would be enough for our pain to connect.

I am a rich man….

“The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful.”

— Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds