How To Get A Driver's License Without a Social Security Number
Without Being a Jerk
Like every brainless sixteen year old, I couldn't wait to get my driver's license. I had nowhere I really wanted or needed to go, yet I wanted to drive very much. I wanted to see friends, go places, have freedom from family. But, unlike many teenagers, I feared I'd never be able to actually get a license because I had no state issued birth certificate or social security number.
Most of my relatives believed that we couldn't get a license without a social security number. Many of my relatives also believe it was wrong to have a license (I actually agree with them and will do a future post on that specific topic).
I think my dad technically believes that having a driver's license is an infringement of our rights. But he also said it wasn't a battle he was willing to fight. He said if the boys wanted to risk it they could, but he didn’t want us girls spending time in jail over it. There were bigger fights to fight.
He encouraged me to get a driver's license, wouldn’t let me drive until I had one, and believed it was possible for me to get one. He and my mother both had licenses without numbers, so they thought they could get me one.
However we were aware that everything in the States had cracked down and become harder for natural born Americans since 9/11. My dad's tricks for opening a bank account no longer worked as well. Renewing his license had gotten harder.
Despite my parents’ confidence, I stressed that I'd never be able to legally drive. Despite risk of jail, I was willing to just start driving illegally, but my parents wouldn’t permit that. We moved states after sixteenth birthday. Dad asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I told him, "My driver's license1."
Dad said yes, and I felt a little more at ease. I thought, "Maybe I can and will get my license."
But we never made it in to apply. I turned seventeen, then eighteen, then nineteen.
Dad was always too busy to help, or there was "something" he needed to do first, and "it took time". While he usually had valid excuses, I grew impatient and upset.
I turned twenty and I still couldn't drive. I was walking or biking to all my jobs which limited what work I was able to accept. I decided I was going to get serious about getting my license — it wasn’t just about seeing friends anymore, I wanted to expand my cleaning business.
I told my father I wanted to get my license now. I wouldn’t wait any longer.
I'd said this many times before, but for some reason, things started rolling forward. We gathered as many forms of ID together as we could. Here are some of them:
My hunting education. I got this when I was fifteen, I think. It's my first form of ID, but there was a mistake made on the card by the people making it so my initials are KIL rather than KAL. I thought it so ironic for a hunting card, so I left it as is.
Photo ID. I got this when I was eighteen. The first place we called about obtaining one wouldn't give us one without an social security number, but we found an office in another town that only asked for birth certificates. They only gave us paper versions until we could find "more" information", but I was able to fly for a couple years with this alone.
Home made notarized birth certificate. It doesn't have to be a state birth certificate to be legal, but it should look like one as much as possible, and also be notarized. Research this thoroughly before making your own. And then, don't be an idiot and advertise the fact that your BC is different than others. If you want help with this, email me at keturahskorner(at)gmail(dot)com.
Fishing license. I think we were desperate to overwhelm them. They didn't need this or the hunting ID, though.
Page from the Family Bible, and newspaper clipping from when I was born.
Proof of residence (electric bill) and letter with my name on it. I think I also brought a library card.
We found a free day, then Dad, Mom, and I went into our local MVD to begin the most exciting, exhilarating process of my youth. Like anyone else wanting a license, we waited our turn and filled out the paperwork.
M parents stayed behind and I went up by myself when I was called. I handed over the forms for a permit. I was nervous, but hopeful and smiled. The lady however seemed to resent the smile, or perhaps she resented the freedom she saw behind my smile. Either way, she was rude and not very helpful.
"I'll need your social security number," she said, not long into starting the process.
"I don't have one, " I gently explained. "Due to religious beliefs."
"Everyone has a social security number," she snapped.
"Not me. I was born at home and my parents chose to not give me one."
"That's not true."
Now I was trying with all my might to not show my irritation and agitation. This lady had the nerve to call me a liar? And for what reason?
"The system says you have one," she said.
To this day, I'm still not sure what she meant. Maybe she meant, it showed that I should have one, because that's to be expected. But I clearly didn’t have one.
"Well, I don't. It's impossible that I would have one," I said. Fear entered my heart for a moment. Could I possible have one? But how?
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mom ready to jump over and say something. Dad looked ready to come, too, but he told Mom to wait.
"What do I need to do to prove to you that I don't have one," I asked.
"Go to the IRS office and get a statement saying so. But you won't be able to get that and be back in time today."
"I'll try," I said. It had taken four years to make today happen. I mean, my dad had been working on things like my birth certificate, but still. I wasn't going to risk waiting another four years.
We went to the IRS office immediately.
Some people seem to think we were brave stepping inside "enemy lines". But you see, the people there weren't and aren't our enemies, just misinformed people doing a job for a salary.
And while we aren't a part of their society, we are free and legal Americans. We had no need to fear. My only thought was, "I hope we can get this paper fast enough to return back and get my permit today."
As we waited Dad chatted with a security guard, and they got along just fine. Another great example of how to be a shining light rather than a glaring flashlight.
We didn't have long to wait. We went to the back where several women worked, and we asked for a statement proving I (and some of my siblings) didn't have a social security number.
"You want what?" The lady wasn't rude, merely surprised.
"Can you look me up in your system and see if I'm there, then if I'm not, can you print out a letter that says so?"
"I don't know if we can do that—"
Another lady in the back said, "Yes, we can! You just do it like this ..."
The ladies actually seemed quite thrilled to be doing something so strange. They looked me up, and sure enough I didn't exist in their databases, so they printed out a letter for me.
"And would you like to get a number?"
"No thank you!"
I was so excited to have that piece of paper, and practically skipped right through and out of the IRS office. We drove back to the MVD. The lady was not happy to see us again so soon.
"I told you not to come back until tomorrow."
"I thought you only wanted a letter saying I didn't have a number? I have it."
She stammered, and muttered, and looked like she was trying to think of some way to get rid of me. But she couldn't. So I sat and smiled and waited as she made call after troublesome (for her—I'm quite patient and didn't mind waiting fifteen more minutes) call as she found out the right numbers to enter to bypass their "required" line needing the social security number.
It worked, and it was all I could to do not explode with joy. I knew I needed to remain somewhat calm or this lady would find a reason to make the whole thing not work.
"I'll need a state birth certificate," she said.
Now. Here's another HUGE important part of my story.
I could have said, "I don't have a state certificate, but a homemade one."
I would have had every right to say so, and legally my certificate should have done the job just fine. But this lady could have denied it all the same. Or I may have been able to argue with her for another thirty minutes and finally won. But why?
Here, some will say, "But you should have educated her."
"You should have made her give you what you want on your terms."
It's not our job to educate those who are unwilling. We speak truth, yes, and we never hide from it. But we should NEVER shove that truth at a hardened heart. It never does any good, creates a pointless scenes, and wins nothing for us or them at the end of the day.
I've entered another world, and like it or not, I must play by their rules (loopholes count). Respect goes a long way in winning any strategic game. This was a game of strategy that required me being as peaceful and loving as possible. I was not here to preach or convert.
My personal motto when dealing with officials has always been to never volunteer unnecessary information. Say what's important, and be done with it. And simply pretend to be a normal person. Act for success, and act like you are successful.
Don’t become of the tyrants.
I wasn't going to be a fool just to appease my own pride. Yes, this lady was annoying. But I didn't go there for a pleasant conversation. I went so that I might obtain a silly, but half-way necessary of permission slip.
And guess what?
I got my license.
P.S. My driving "instructor" was quite nice. She and I had a conversation about all things books and writing and publishing. So don't enter every government space expecting to meet Mrs Grouchy. Be prepared, yes. But don't do worse and arrive as Mr Victim or Ms Sour-eye
That folks, is how I asked for permission to drive to work, and succeeded on my own terms without being a jerk. If you have any questions, or similar stories, please share in the comments or by email!
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We’d just left the Amish, and I asked if I could start wearing skirts instead of dresses and if I could start wearing jewelry again. The things we want as teenagers! My dad said yes to everything.