Sebastian Chacon is a proud Latino actor and entrepreneur from New York City. Among other things, he is committed to showcasing and uplifting his heritage through his career. Known for his role as Warren Rojas in Daisy Jones and the Six, he made it a point to infuse his character with a strong Latino identity, suggesting a name change from Warren Rhodes to Warren Rojas and incorporating cultural elements into the portrayal. This dedication to representation is also reflected in his entrepreneurial pursuits.
Chacon is the founder of MASOMENOS, a boutique in Chinatown that spotlights clothing and accessories made by independent Latino designers. His decision to support independent Latino brands and designers from New York highlights his pride in his roots and his desire to promote his community’s talent. Alongside this, he co-founded Bravado Pictures with his brothers. The company’s first project, Hermanos, is an upcoming film centered around an Ecuadorian family in Brooklyn, reflecting Chacon’s commitment to telling authentic, culturally rich stories.
Chacon also co-hosts NO PARKING, a podcast he records with his brother Kevin in their Bushwick garage, capturing the raw, unfiltered energy of New York life. Through his acting, business ventures, and creative projects, Chacon continues to serve as a proud advocate for his people, dedicated to creating opportunities and telling stories that resonate with his community.
What inspired you to become an actor, and how has your cultural background shaped that journey?
I’ve always been drawn to storytelling. Growing up, I was surrounded by people from every walk of life: different languages, traditions, occupations, and histories. In New York, the most highly valued resource is the human one— there’s a wealth of music, art, humor, and passion even amongst regular people. Acting felt like a natural extension of my fascination with people. Culturally… I rarely saw myself on screen in a way that felt real. There were only a handful of Latino actors that were well known to gringo audiences, and I consumed all their work voraciously. The few times we were represented, it was often through stereotypes. Early in my career, I remember playing something like… six criminals in a row? As I continued in my work, I wanted more and more to reflect the diversity I lived with every day, not some flattened version of it. That’s been the compass guiding me through every role and project lately.
In Daisy Jones and the Six, you played Warren Rojas, a character whose original name was Warren Rhodes. What led you to push for that change, and what did it mean to you?
Well in the book, he’s a white guy with red hair, etc, and I guess there’s a world where my name could be Warren Rhodes, but… I didn’t want to run the risk of erasing the significance of a Latin dude being in a Mainstream American Rock Band in the 70s. In my research for the role, I could find maybe one or two examples of it, ever. So I sent a list of like eight prospective names to the creative team, and they went with Rojas, which is a name in my mother’s family. From there, other things kind of came naturally. I played every song with timbale sticks. The costume department was incredibly collaborative, and brough a ton of indigenous jewelry and funky costumes that fleshed out his heritage even more. To me, it wasn’t about making him “the Latino guy.” It was about making him real, with his strange quirks in how he dresses, plays, and acts. We carry our roots into everything we do, even if it’s unspoken.
MASOMENOS is such a bold and intentional project. What was the driving force behind opening a boutique dedicated solely to independent Latino designers?
Honestly, MASOMENOS came from my experiences with red carpets, appearances, interviews, etc— stylists would frequently try to push standard european luxury brands on me, and I thought if I were to be making these public appearances I would rather put people on to Latino designers that I admired, especially independent ones. So I would take the budgets and style myself in stuff that I liked! I wished there was a place where I could find that kind of clothing easily. I figured I couldn’t be the only one who cared about that and that wanted such a place to exist, so why not make it myself?
Bravado Pictures is a new venture you co-founded, and its first film, Hermanos, is deeply personal. Can you share more about what this project means to you?
Hermanos centers on two Ecuadorian brothers and their family in Brooklyn who become the victims of a hate crime. is based on a true story that happened to a family friend years ago— I have changed a lot of the details out of respect for them, but it is personal in that these people and their struggles are real. I don’t want to say too much about it yet, but we’re really excited about getting it in the can soon.
With Bravado Pictures, we’re aiming to tell stories that don’t usually get greenlit— stories that reflect us, told by us. Hermanos is our way of showing who we are, setting the tone for what’s coming next.
NO PARKING is raw, gritty, and deeply honest. What made you start this podcast, and how has it impacted you creatively?
I grew up with some serious yappers. My family’s been kicked out of restaurants and the like for being too loud many times— I’ve spent many long nights arguing about some insignificant philosophical or rhetorical thing for hours with my folks. When my lil brother, Kevin, and I are talking, sometimes people can’t even keep up with all the back and forth. Hosting a podcast together just seemed to make sense, I dunno. The place I live at in Brooklyn came with this dilapidated garage, and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with it. I figured until then, it would be the perfect place to maybe get some of this yapping on camera. Every episode, we sit down with a guest, crack open some Victorias, and shoot the shit. The gate is open, and people walk by playing music or doing whatever they’re doing. Sometimes we even bring them on the show. I like that the neighborhood is also kind of a guest as well. I guess it’s fun to just let loose and do what we always do, but sometimes I’ll have a really good conversation with my bro and we’ll be like “Damn! Out here working for free???? We shoulda saved that for the show! ’
Representation is a central theme in everything you do. How do you define it, and what does true representation look like to you in the media today?
Representation isn’t just about numbers or checking a box. It’s about depth, truth, and nuance. I think sometimes people think having one Latino character or casting a diverse actor is enough. But if that character isn’t written with care, if they don’t have agency or complexity, it’s hollow. For me, true representation means being allowed to be messy, to be vulnerable, to take up space without explanation.
It means telling our own stories, from our perspective, with our voice. And it’s not just in front of the camera—it’s writers, producers, directors, designers. Until we have power behind the scenes, we’re still asking permission. What I aim to do, with everything I touch, is help shift that balance. I want future generations to see themselves on screen and think, “Yeah, that’s me—and I’m enough.”
How do you balance all these roles—actor, entrepreneur, storyteller—and what keeps you grounded through it all?
I dunno, honestly… I really like being an actor because you don’t really have to motivate yourself. You have a team of people who tell you “audition for this, go here for two months, gain weight, lose weight, stand here, say this, etc”. Doing a bunch independently is hard by comparison! I have to just *choose* what I work on and how to do it day by day? I think what keeps me grounded is honoring the people who made me— my responsibility to my community, family, and my people is what keeps me together. Without that, I don’t know where I’d be.
What’s next for you—and what kind of legacy do you hope to leave through your work?
Sheesh man, I dunno. I don’t really try to think about that so much. I try to just work with people and make things that I think are cool. I guess if someday, someone can look at what I’ve done and feel like their voice matters, like their story is worth telling, then I’ve done my job. I certainly remember the people who did that for me. My legacy, I hope, is one of doors opened, of truth spoken, and of a culture celebrated without compromise.
What advice would you give to young creatives—especially Latinos—who want to follow in your footsteps but feel like the odds are stacked against them?
First, I’d say: you’re not wrong to feel that way. The odds are tough. But don’t let that make you small. Your voice, your story, your background— it’s your superpower. You don’t have to wait for permission to create. Start with what you have. Record a podcast in your garage. Write that script. Sew that first sample. Make things with your friends. Surround yourself with people who lift you up. And most importantly, remember this: no one can tell your story better than you. That’s your leverage. Use it.
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