I’m not an immigrant, obviously.
I’m just a guy with a YouTube channel, a pile of banjos, and enough real-world experience to know this:
Most Americans have no idea what “come here the right way” actually means.
People throw that phrase around like there's a line to stand in. Like there's a ticket machine with a "Take a Number" sign on it. There isn’t.
Let’s pretend for a moment… humor me, okay?
Let’s say I wasn’t born here.
Let’s say I’m still a musician who earns an honest living online. No boss. No payroll. Just hard work, consistency, and community.
Now let’s say I want to move to the U.S.
I'm not coming to freeload, or to “invade.” I just want to live and work, openly, legally, and with full transparency.
Where’s the path?
Guess what. There isn’t one.
There is no visa for online creators.
There is no category for freelancers.
There is no form for “I support myself and want to stay above board.”
Unless I have a U.S. employer, a qualifying family connection, or a pile of investment capital, I’m completely out of luck.
“Just get a work visa.”
Let’s take that seriously. Let’s say I try to do just that. Ready? Buckle up.
My friend Tony McManus — one of the most respected guitarists alive — has spent decades working and performing legally in the U.S. His visa class? O-1. That’s the “extraordinary ability” one. It sounds lofty, and it is.
Oh, and just to be clear — this wasn’t his first time applying. Tony had already gone through this process before. He was simply trying to renew the same visa he’d held legally for years, to keep doing the same work he’s always done: performing and teaching music in the U.S. Here are Tony's own words regarding what that renewal took:
“The petition is 150+ pages of contracts, testimonials, press, and proof of commercial success. Each page was vetted and revised by lawyers.
Cost to submit: $5,000
Cost for premium processing (just to get them to look at it): $3,850
Application fee: $320
Courier, photos, packaging: $60
After three months of silence, I paid for premium processing. Still nothing.
Submitted my documents to the U.S. Consulate in Toronto as instructed — and they denied ever receiving them.
My Member of Parliament couldn’t help. Immigration consultants finally traced the package — it had been delivered the next day. Only then did they ‘find’ the documents and begin processing.
From start to finish, the process took six months. Six months of silence, confusion, and relentless stress.
During the final stretch — about ten days while my passport was stuck at the consulate — I lost $4,000 worth of work. That work was covered by an existing, valid, and expensive O-1 visa. But without access to my passport, I couldn’t prove it, and I couldn’t take the gigs.
My application status went from:
‘Who the fuck are you?’
to ‘In process’
to ‘Approved’
to ‘Issued’ — but only after opportunities had vanished.
This whole process is an utter fucking disgrace.”
Tony’s not asking for citizenship; just the legal right to work. Yet even he gets lost in the system.
“Come here the right way.”
So let’s define that, clearly.
To immigrate “the right way” you need one of the following:
- A close U.S. relative: a spouse, parent, or child under 21. In some cases, siblings count. Even if you qualify, the wait time can stretch 15 to 20 years.
- A U.S. employer willing to sponsor you through an expensive, time-consuming legal process — with no guarantee of success.
- A significant investment (often six figures or more) in a U.S.-based business.
If you’re self-employed?
A creator?
From the “wrong” country?
You don’t qualify.
Not for anything.
People say “come here the right way” like it’s a matter of paperwork and patience, but most folks don’t understand the truth:
There is no way.
And no, I’m not being political.
This isn’t about left or right.
It’s about facts.
If you’ve never had to navigate this system, don’t assume it’s simple. Don’t assume others are breaking the rules just because they don’t have your luck.
The rules are stacked. The doors are locked. The bar keeps moving.
So when you say “do it the right way,” ask yourself:
Are you giving advice?
Or are you just saying,
“Don’t come here.”
