Love, Art, and the O-1 Visa
Marlon Xavier and Belle T. Le in Carolina Đỗ’s new play ExtraO1dinary Aliens!, running in March at JACK in Brooklyn. Photo: Vas Eli.
“BULLSHIT. Ask for a refund, we’re going with a real lawyer. Money is not an issue. Fuck them. Fuck them to hell, pretentious ass lickers.”
On March 11, 2015, fueled with rageful indignation born of holding American citizenship (courtesy of refugee parents), I missived that to my then boyfriend, now husband, Vas, after he forwarded me a particularly inane response from a law firm reviewing his first O-1 visa application.
Against all odds, nearly eleven years later, my new play ExtraO1dinary Aliens! will have its first performance on March 7, 2026 at JACK in Brooklyn, directed (and led) by Vas and brought to life with a remarkable team of immigrant and first-generation theatermakers. It’s an absurd romantic comedy, drawn from the real-life funhouse nightmare Vas and I — and so many people we love — have endured with US Citizenship and Immigration Services — a.k.a. USCIS — while trying to build a life here under the looming fear of deportation. This play is my response to the American theater’s obsession with immigrant stories that are safely set in the past — or worse, produced without immigrants anywhere on the creative team.
And yes.
It’s a romantic comedy.
About immigration.
You have to laugh so you don’t cry at the utter ridiculousness of being forced to justify your humanity and artistry to paper-pushing drones who never once entertained the idea of following their own dreams.
Speaking of dreams, this one may have started with me, a laptop, and pen and paper, but getting this play — and the immigrant-centered community programming built around it — in front of an audience has required a miraculous alignment of stars and a village of support.
I want to dispel the myth that any single piece of theater can be done alone. Here is how we’re doing it.
The first scene was written during my MacDowell residency in October 2023. It grew into Alien Play, a 15-minute short play presented with the Makers’ Ensemble in March 2024. Fresh Ground Pepper’s PlayGround PlayGroup propelled me to the first draft that June. JACK was the artistic home for a 29-hour workshop in July 2024, a sold-out workshop production in September 2024, and another development workshop in November 2025.
Five drafts. Two and a half years.
Funding and space came to us through a two-week residency at JACK, a space grant from the Bechdel Project, 96 individuals donating nearly $13,000 to our online fundraiser, contributions from our co-producer Leviathan Lab and associate producers The Hearth and The Sống Collective, and finally, Venturous Theater Fund.
Then there’s my core producing team: Vas Eli. Maria Müller. Isa Criado. Federica Borlenghi. They all wear a myriad of creative hats as they endure a modern-day odyssey of over a decade of navigating whiplash in America’s immigration system.
From Vas, in November 2015:
“I am in Romania right now. USCIS approved my petition for an artist visa, but in the interview at the embassy here in Romania I was denied.”
The response from the embassy:
“The Consular officer was mistaken.… We apologize for the error and any inconvenience this may have caused.... We have educated the adjudicating officer.”
Educated.
I wish I had the word count to fully unpack USCIS’s unhinged, paradoxical requirements and how incompatible they are with the actual reality of immigrant artists trying to make a living in this industry. But here’s a sampler of the absurdity of what it takes to be a working artist in New York City:
Vas Eli, Julie Tran, and Matthew Zimmerman in rehearsal for ExtraO1dinary Aliens! Photo: Carolina Đỗ.
You pay the international tuition rate to study here on an F-1 visa. After graduation, you apply for the OPT — Optional Practical Training — allowing you one year to work in your field of study.
In the case of the artists working on ExtraO1dinary Aliens!, the OPT application was a formality; everyone was approved.
But in August 2024, a few weeks before workshop rehearsals, our assistant director, Isa, emailed:
“I just got the news my OPT was denied, which means that I have to leave the US as soon as possible. Don’t worry, I’m leaving end of month and coming back in as a tourist to tie in all loose ends.”
We made it work with her. But she had to re-enroll in another degree program and pay thousands more to reapply.
One year later:
“Any update on the OPT mess?”
Finally, six months after that:
“Hiii!!!! Vas told me you got your OPT!!! Congratulations!!!! DUH to USCIS!!!”
When your OPT runs out, you apply for an O-1B, known fondly as the “Extraordinary Alien” visa. This is the visa that the current president wants to replace with his more lucrative Gold Card.
In July 2024, one of our actors’ OPT expired. Her lawyers told her she didn’t have a strong enough case to receive an O-1.
This actor got her MFA from Yale. You’re telling me that Yale wasn’t a strong enough case? And Yale couldn’t help?
What hope does anyone else have?
She had to switch to a tourist visa, legally barring her from working in any capacity in the US at all.
Here’s the poisonous secret about this “extraordinary” visa: even if you spend tens of thousands of dollars and years assembling an O-1 case — which involves press clippings, reviews, recommendation letters, proof of “extraordinary ability” — that visa does not automatically mean you can work in the entertainment industry. For network TV and union jobs, casting directors won’t even look at your materials unless you have a green card or citizenship.
Meaning: the US government can literally take your money and years of your life, stamp your passport and declare you “extraordinary” — and you still can’t be hired.
Extraordinary. But not employable.
From Maria’s agent in 2021:
“I pitch[ed] you for the role of Sophia in That 90s Show and they replied to say it won’t work [...] You need to have a Green Card or USA passport, they cannot consider talent with an O-1 Visa.”
In the play, there’s a scene almost verbatim from what happened to Vas.
KAY
What do you mean they took the offer back?
He tosses his phone at her to read.
KAY
“Due to your ineligible work status—” But you’re on an O-1! Why would they issue an O-1 for Film/TV if you aren’t allowed to work?”CORNELIU
Apparently, the networks only work with green card holders.
It's the paradox of me writing a play about immigrants and seeing on the AEA showcase code form (whose very purpose is to allow members to hone their skills!):
“Non-resident aliens shall not appear in any Code production.”
Making theater is hard enough even if you have all the material advantages in the world. Making theater as an immigrant (or first-generation artist) in this country is almost impossible.
Doors are closed. Opportunities are dangled and retracted.
In case someone was worried, it’s extremely difficult for immigrants to get hired in this industry, much less “steal” anyone’s job.
This industry favors youth. But what happens when you spend your youth fighting to justify your existence instead of simply practicing your craft? When your twenties and thirties are consumed by paperwork, legal fees, biometric appointments, and the feverish terror that one administrative error can undo your life? How can you take artistic risks if you can’t even breathe?
“Making theater is hard enough even if you have all the material advantages in the world. Making theater as an immigrant (or first-generation artist) in this country is almost impossible.”
ExtraO1dinary Aliens! is a love letter to the immigrants in my life — first and foremost to my husband — whose talents are every bit as audacious, expansive, and deserving as those of any of their American peers, and who should be afforded the same opportunities without having to prove their worth in triplicate.
Love, art, and community are what anchor and arm us against this monstrous system. How else can a Romanian and a Vietnamese-American meet, fall in love, and build a play with a team whose roots stretch to Spain, Peru, Ecuador, Italy, China, Mongolia, Brazil, and the Philippines?
America has to live up to the loftiest dreams of the souls who choose her.
If you’re tired of the doomscroll and want to make a difference, I invite you to do one of three things:
Hire every single artist working on ExtraO1dinary Aliens!
Join an ICEWATCH group.
Marry an immigrant.
And if you’re like, “Carolina, I just wanna do the bare minimum”?
Come see our show.