"I see on this intake form that you're asking for my social. Why do you need that, though?" I asked the secretary politely.
She conferred with the secretary next to her, who had heard the exchange. "Tell her we need it as a secondary identification."
She turned back to me, "We need it as a secondary identification. You would be surprised how many people have the same names."
1. You have no idea what would surprise me.
2. The only people who need my social security number are people who are paying or lending me money. When the eye doctor starts paying me money instead of marking up eyeglass frames by 400%, I'll give 'em my SSN.
3. Fact: As of this writing, no one else has my name.
So I didn't give it. But the secretary I was not talking to said, quite audibly to me, "Tell her we at least have to have the last four digits." So I wrote my birth year there.
This whole scene was irritating to me, a person with a social security number. But what was merely loitering in the back of my mind came dashing to the front: people who are here without documentation would start to sweat in this moment. This tiny fit of solidarity does not move the needle on justice for folks who have come here for legit reasons, and I know this.
So what will move the needle toward justice? I'm not currently seeking out ways to help dismantle and re-create the immigration system. I suppose I'm waiting for a chance to fall into my lap. But if I wait, it will likely look like standing up for the little guy. Standing up for the little guy, as a little guy myself, is sure to land me in trouble. I'm just gearing up. I'm getting myself used to a little bit of trouble, making a little bit of noise, trying to see how the little guys would be treated if they were there, so I can stand with them.
