Every Blank Line Needs A Number
My Early Successes Without a Social Security Number and the Second Rule to Opting Out
I was almost seventeen when I felt I'd finally tasted life. And it was good.
I got my first job, something I thought I'd never be able to do.
Now I laugh at my younger self. And I also laugh at those who have social security numbers and say they can't find work. Here I am, technically unable to work, and I can't keep up with the influx of jobs.
There's something about work that enlivens the human spirit. It doesn't necessarily give us purpose, but it certainly breathes and validates our purpose and goals in life.
Work makes living seem possible, and not only in the literal sense. That bit of life I've found through cleaning houses and babysitting — from making my own money — inspired me to not give up on the fight to be free.
I was never a normal child. I hated playing outside with the kids. I was more interested in sitting in on the adults' conversations. There were always so many things to learn. Whenever I opened my mouth to ask a question I was quickly noticed and told, "Go be a kid and play."
I learned important things about my status as an “undocumented American” from those conversations.
"Never leave lines blank," the adults said.
When a document needed a social security number you didn't write N/A, or worse yet "Against my religious beliefs."
You put down numbers. For different places different numbers worked. Sometimes you’d use all 0s or all 9s worked. Occasionally one should use 1s or 8s or 2s. Sometimes we knew the exact bypass string of numbers for specific forms, but a lot of time it required a little trial and error.
It's been one of those pieces of information I've always kept tucked at the back of my mind, never knowing how crucial it would be. Or exciting.
I think I was born to be a capitalist1. I love working, and I love seeing my work become money. I first got serious about "business" when I found $54 dollars in Walmart's parking lot.
"Mom, look!" I think I was eleven at the time.
I was going to turn it in to Walmart, but Dad said since it was cash they would probably just keep it.
So now a poor eleven year old suddenly felt very rich. What was I to do?
I would invest.
I already knew how to embroider, sew, and knit. The logical thing to me was to invest in my skills and make things to sell. I bought beading and jewelry supplies (which I still have and use to this day), flower sack towels, embroidery floss, and peaches & créme yarn.
I sold these things by walking up town streets, calling in on a local radio station (I actually ended up trading the towels for more books than money on there), and through custom orders at farmers’ markets. I decided to expand my entrepreneurship when I was sixteen. I sold all sorts of things on Craigslist from handmade goods to thrifted antiques.
When my dad found several pickup loads of books in the dump, I started selling books on Amazon. I made hundreds doing that, but as soon as I hit fifty sales Amazon shut me down because I didn't have a tax ID number. By that time I was successfully making money through other endeavors, so didn't try to fight it.
On January 8, 2013 I started an Etsy store. It never did as well as Craigslist or Amazon, but this was still a monumental step for me, for it is the day my mom came up with the name "Keturah's Korner", and Etsy is what gave me the motivation to apply the knowledge I'd stored away about blank lines and strings of like-numbers.
It took me a long time, but I was eventually able to attach a direct checkout system to my Etsy store. I tried using several different numbers. A string of 2s let me bypass the social security number requirement. I was elated and hardly cared that I made any sales.
To further my business, I opened a PayPal account. At first I attached my dad's banking account and my mom's ID, and again I played around until I was able to bypass the “required” social security number. It was small, but getting a PayPal has always been one of my favorite early achievements. Shortly after, with a homemade notarized birth certificate, I was able to get my first photo ID. With this I would be able to fly. I have since attached my own ID and bank account to my PayPal, too.
These may all seem like small, inconsequential things to many of my readers. But to someone who thought she might always have to live a life doing nothing, these were my seeds of victory.
They were enough to give me hope for a time. They were enough to encourage me to keep trying for larger loopholes.
If I could give you one thing to chew over, it's this: try. You might fail. But then you might not.
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Even though I reject capitalism in the dog-eat-dog sense.