Efrain candidly shares his journey from disconnection to deep impact.
I didn’t take the scenic route. I took the real one.
I was born in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and my earliest memories aren’t storybook moments, they’re survival chapters. At just two years old, the state removed me from my biological mother due to addiction. My aunt, who would later become my mother in every way that matters, made the courageous choice to take me and two other siblings in and adopt me at age seven. That one act of love rerouted an entire future. It gave us space to heal and dream differently, even if it didn’t always feel easy at the time.
Eventually, we moved to Orlando in search of stability — a safer neighborhood, a fresh start, a shot at something better. But trauma doesn’t respect new addresses.
I didn’t walk into school feeling safe. I walked in carrying years of stuff no one could see. I was bused across town to a high school where I didn’t feel like I belonged. I got into fights, acted out and pushed limits. Teachers saw the behavior but not always the boy behind it. One guidance counselor even told me, “Maybe school just isn’t for you. Get a job, move on.”
I almost believed her words. They were confirmation of every doubt I already had. But somewhere in me, I knew I didn’t want to settle for that.
There were moments. Small ones that left big marks. A stage role, reading morning announcements, a teacher who pulled me aside and friends who stayed when others didn’t. I didn’t have access to a formal program. I had people who believed in me and made me feel like I mattered when I didn’t yet believe in myself. It was those relationships that kept me from slipping through the cracks.
“I barely graduated, but I walked. And that walk changed everything.”
After high school, I took a job at Subway. It was supposed to be temporary. But I showed up differently and was the first to clock in, last to leave. By 19, I was managing stores. By 21, I was flipping underperforming locations into top stores in the company. I learned how to lead teams, grow sales and build culture. My hustle caught the eye of Subway execs and soon, millions would see my story unfold on Undercover Boss.
That national spotlight didn’t just showcase my leadership: it cracked something open. It reminded me that my story had value and that my voice mattered — that everything I went through wasn’t wasted but was preparing me for something greater.
You don’t have to be perfect; you just have to be present. Own your story, even the parts that hurt. Because when you show up for yourself, you give others permission to do the same. Always know your worth!
Since then, I have built a life rooted in purpose. I opened a café at 22, launched a nonprofit to mentor youth, traveled the world from South Africa to Kenya facilitating workshops in the airline industry. Today, I run KYW Creative Group, where I coach founders, executives and creators to own their voices, build their brands and lead with clarity.
And when I’m not coaching CEOs? I’m nurturing plants, spending time with my wife and kids and hosting wrestling live streams for a 50,000+ TikTok community (@knowyourwrestling) that I built from the ground up. I love blending joy with purpose. That’s how I stay grounded.
Efrain’s story isn’t just about overcoming. It’s about becoming:
- Becoming the mentor he never had.
- Becoming the leader he needed.
- Becoming the voice for those still learning to use theirs.
So, what does he want the next generation to know?
From Lawrence to Orlando, from Subway to stages, from silenced to seen, Efrain Lozada is living proof that your beginning doesn’t have to define your ending.