Blue, White, Red -- That which we most value


In class on Thursday, we were talking of the most important paper in our lives, and though initially I wondered if I even had a paper of value that I held as dearly as Massala-Massala did, I quickly realized that even though I no longer carried my wallet around with me,  I could definitely relate to this character and his very real fears on losing a physical object.

Growing up, I did not really know the importance of having “legal documents” here in the United States, at least not on the same level I do now. I always knew they were essential, and made life easier, since various members of my family are undocumented immigrants and I saw their very real struggle to assimilate without these, but it was not until one day in a department store a couple of years ago that I really understood the value of what I actually had.

Many department stores like Macy’s, JC Penny, Beall’s, and so forth, typically offer customers discounts for signing up with their credit card programs. I never understood why my mom always rejected these programs and never even bothered to see if she qualified, especially when they offered such enormous savings. I knew that credit cards were “bad” because of high interest rates, how easily they could affect your credit score, and debt – that valuable piece of economic knowledge had been instilled on me early on – but I couldn’t comprehend why we kept forfeiting such a grand opportunity. After much relentless pestering from my part, my mom finally asked a sales-clerk how to enroll in one of their programs. I was with her to make sure the conversation went fluently, since my mom’s English is pretty conversational but sometimes she is unable to express her thoughts clearly. At this point however I did not know that you needed a valid social security number to go through the process.

During the questioning by the clerk, my mom was asked what her social security number was because it was needed to complete the process, and at this point I panicked, internally knowing my mom did not have one yet. My mom on the other hand only showed slight outward signs of embarrassment and timidly told the clerk that she did not know her number by memory but would drive home and come back later or another day. The sales attendant reacted very poorly to this and in her surprise could not understand why my mom, an adult, did not have her number memorized! The shame on my mom’s face killed me, but I knew she could not really defend herself since she could not say the truth (letting someone know you do not have legal papers is very dangerous and very taboo in my culture) so we just left and did not talk about it on the way home.

Years later however, I knew that that moment made an enormous impact on my mother because as my sister and I grew up, my mom always reminded us sternly to memorize our most important numbers: our driver's licenses, ID numbers, and most importantly our social security number. In fact, our SSN was so important that my mom would scare us with identity theft stories and would emphasize that we needed to take utmost care of this small paper. For some time, once I realized how important this document was, I would not let it leave my side. I would carry it with me everywhere.  The quote in Blue White Red describing Massala-Massala’s actions when he receives his documents reminded me much of how I felt and behaved once I realized how valuable a SSN was.

"Many among us dreamed of getting one. I lived in permanent terror of losing it...In fact, I feared that a lout would steal it away from me...I kept this paper with me all the time" (Mabankou 65-66).

I no longer carry the original card around like I used to, for fear of losing it, but I definitely do have my number memorized and greatly appreciate its value, especially knowing that so many people without it wish they could have their own precious card.

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