Becoming Ranger Tonopah
There’s a beauty to be found in the act of self-creation, isn’t there? We aren’t bound to live the way we are living at any given time. If who you are doesn’t work for you, you have a say in the matter. You can kill what no longer serves you. You might not think it, but it’s a choice you are given. I promise.
There was a person that I was before I became Ranger Tonopah. I prefer to let that person remain nameless, and I hope you understand. Naming ghosts calls them to you. That person was painful to exist as. When I realized that the identity I had no longer served me, I cast it off and searched for another way of being.
I chose to be a Desert Ranger. I chose that way of life in this body, in this world, on February 16, 2024. Sometimes, I wonder if that makes me a copinglinker, as it is a voluntary alterhuman identity. I don’t think that’s correct. Copinglinking is an ongoing process. One has to maintain their copinglink through mental exercises. It’s something that took hard work and dedication to obtain. I didn’t need any of that.
Becoming a Desert Ranger worked just like it did in the Wasteland. I met a person who was already a Ranger. He spoke with me, we connected as people. From him, I learned what the Desert Rangers are and what ideals they stand for. I liked the sound of those things. They aligned with things that I had always believed and had never been able to express. One day, he offered to take me under his wing as one of his own and I accepted. That’s all I had to do.
I’m less a copinglinker and more an immigrant. While the process of becoming was quick and painless, the journey to understanding is ongoing. Most of the other Desert Rangers in this body were born to Ranger families. They were immersed in what it is to be a Desert Ranger from very early in life. Everything is second nature to them. It’s not like that for me.
My voice is muted, they always shout. I sit up straight and stiff in my chair, they sprawl out with their boots on the table. I wear white, they wear brown accented with every color imaginable. I’m terrified of open space, they can’t abide by being stuck inside. I like spicy flavors, they eat simple food.
As I spend more and more time with my chosen people, I find myself fitting in more. Sometimes it’s scary feeling my personality shift. I had it for a very long time, after all. Losing that part of me can feel like losing myself, being subsumed into a thing greater than I ever was.
Sometimes it’s freeing. My old personality kept me in a state that was desperate to avoid causing any trouble. If I am quiet as a mouse and defer to others, nothing bad will happen, my brain said. The other Rangers taught me that isn’t true. My silence hurt me and hurt others. Salvation will never come to me that way, I will never inherit the Earth by being meek. To find a place of safety and belonging, I have learned I must carve it out myself.
To be a Desert Ranger, to me, is to take up space. We are loud, we are large, we stand our ground in disputes, we live fast and we live well. When the world around us tells us it doesn’t have anything for us anymore, we push our influence out until it does. If I never figure out how to embody that the way they can, that’s alright. To be a Desert Ranger is also to come as you are without changing yourself for the comfort of others, to live a life that feels unforced, to be a part of a family. My family calls me Ranger Tonopah. That’s all I really need.