Migration in Dialogue – Becky Ho
Actor Becky Ho wants to pursue creative projects with real humanity—stories “off the beaten path” preferably with an element of risk. These are themes reflected back in her own life experiences: the half Vietnamese, half Chinese actor came to New York after growing up in Brisbane, Australia to focus on her acting career. Finding its environment more suited to her creative aspirations, she's been building up her portfolio in her newly adopted home in the hopes of eventually landing an artist visa.
Yet the pathway has been uncertain, with Ho up against challenges like the pandemic while undertaking Columbia University's MFA Acting Program and the writers' strike immediately after graduating. But sitting in a cinema one evening last October, she opened her phone to see her artist visa approved—finally.
Flexibility and grit are a few words that describe Becky’s journey to this moment. Now, with a dash of optimistic hindsight, we spoke about migration's impact on her work and life choices, how she dealt with bureaucratic pressure to prove her artistic talent, and her advice for others wading through lengthy and complex visa processes.
Tahney Fosdike: Why did you first relocate from Australia to the US? Did it open up more possibilities for you?
Becky Ho: I came over for a conservatory program; I knew I wanted to stay beyond that, but I didn't imagine myself here six years later living in New York still. I thought it’d be fun and I'd go home. But then I got into an acting school here when none in Australia wanted me. I was like: well, twist my arm, New York wants me!
I’ve always wanted to be on the stage, but Brisbane tends to be conservative with more safe shows. Although there's exciting stuff in Brisbane, it's smaller and more nuclear. The only big stuff is the same old musicals that make big money. That's interested me less and less as I've continued my journey in the US.
I love film and TV and would love to be doing more of it. But I live in New York. This is a theater place. I’ve fallen in love with acting here, and I know that artistically—for my ambitions and the work I wanted to do—it’s the environment for me.
TF: You said you never imagined staying for so long. What happened between when you first arrived and now?
BH: I came in 2019 on a student visa for the conservatory program at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. I already had a bachelor's degree from Australia, then completed the NYC program within 18 months and ended up getting into grad school. It was very much not a guarantee but I got in. I'm lucky.
The three-year degree turned into four years because of the pandemic. The visa in my Australian passport was valid for five. If it expired, as long as I stayed in America, I was legal. If I wanted to travel, that was a problem. I love America, but no one wants to be stuck when this is not where they're from. But it all worked out. I graduated. I did my OPT, and last week, my O-1 visa came in.
TF: From what I understand, the O-1 visa—the artist visa—needs you to prove you have exceptional talent. How did this influence the way you approach your career?
BH: It’s always been on my mind since I knew I wanted to stay.
In the final year of grad school, the search for agents and managers begins. You're doing more meetings and auditions and working toward a final showcase. The showcase is a time to invite industry people to see your work in the hopes they'll like you and keep you in mind. I've had so many talks with my classmates, even a full year before the showcase, saying: it's important for everyone, but it's really important for me and other people on visas.
If worst comes to worst, they can go home to their parents in Pennsylvania for a month or two before trying again. If I don’t do well, that's it. This will determine whether I can stay in this country.
TF: It puts this high-risk factor on your career when, in the arts, it takes time to forge your path. It's an unnatural time limit, right?
BH: There was so much pressure—but I ended up getting repped, which was very exciting! But the week after that, the writer’s strike happened. I felt unlucky because I just started the OPT year before I could apply for the O-1. The clock had started ticking for me to build a portfolio to prove that I’m special: all the prestigious things, leading roles, and—according to the website—all the Academy Awards I have won. Because that’s how it works, right? You graduate and get amazing box office numbers and wonderful lead roles and the like.
Then I booked a summer gig in rural Maine for three months. My reps said: it's something to consider, but the pay is not wonderful, and it takes you out of any other opportunities for that period. They told me it's not moving the needle in any way; it's not going to do anything for my career. I told them that I knew all of this, but at the same time, I needed to be doing things to be on that visa. I'm not in a position to say no or think about it in the hopes that something better will come. I need concrete things now.
TF: From their perspective, three months is not a lot of time to wait. For you, that's a quarter of a critical year. It’s a precarious but relentless process to move through.
BH: Exactly. Literal blood, sweat, and tears went into this visa. I was even unemployed for two months waiting for it. Even after my application, I received a request for more evidence, basically saying what I submitted wasn’t sufficient, and that I was not special enough.
My lawyer said that I got unlucky and probably had an officer who was having a shit day. He was making up rules that don't exist and taking things out of context. Our reply was as long as the original application. I called it my clapback because we refuted everything he said.
For instance, I worked at the leading Shakespeare theater in Maine. To up its prestige, we included that David Harbour from Stranger Things got his start there. We even found photos. This was the place that gave him his first job. Patrick Dempsey—McDreamy—too! I made it stupid for them. We had to prove that what I did was special and on par with celebrities.
He also had issues with an article from Broadway World, saying anyone can submit anything to them. That's not how the news works or how people get stories published about them!
TF: Where were you when it was finally approved?
BH: I submitted my application in June and in late October, I got it. I was in the cinema watching We Live in Time. I was turning my phone off and saw an email from my lawyer. I opened it up, and it said I was approved. Getting that news and then watching that movie––oh my goodness, it was maybe the most emotions I've ever felt at once! I came out at the end of the movie and cried. I was happy and sad. I was at the AMC cinema on 66th and walked home to 110th. It was 11 at night. I just needed to walk and ride the emotions.
TF: Now you have the visa, and maybe more creative freedom, what sort of projects are you looking to pursue?
BH: Being in this country and industry as a woman of color, I'm always like: whatever you have, I will take it! I'll do anything. Just let me work. But I gravitate towards stories that are fun, interesting and maybe off the beaten path with real humanity behind them, that illuminate the human condition and take risks in their material. I also love a coming-of-age story in any medium.
TF: Do you have any advice for other creatives in a similar situation?
BH: Talk to as many people as you can. It’s expensive, but do it with a lawyer if at all possible, because this whole system is designed to make it difficult for you.
They're doing everything in their power to make it hard, deliberately making it more complicated, difficult, and mean. It's set up for failure. People get approved, but the path to get there is not fun.
This interview was edited for clarity and length.