Gail Symons: What I Actually Mean When I Say 'Fourth-Generation Wyomingite'

In recent weeks, I’ve seen a handful of columns and online commentary pushing back on the notion that being born in Wyoming is the only valid credential for weighing in on state policy. Fair enough -- your place of birth doesn’t make you right.

But I’d like to offer a perspective that neither dismisses legacy nor diminishes those who’ve chosen to make Wyoming their home.

When I mention that I’m fourth-generation Wyoming, I don’t mean it as a mic drop. It’s not a substitute for making a valid argument, and it’s not a dismissal of others who see things differently. It’s simply part of what informs my view.

Those of us who’ve been here for generations bring with us a memory of the state passed down by our parents — of boom and bust, of bitter winters and dry summers, of cattle prices and school board meetings and neighborly favors done without fanfare.

We’re fiercely protective of Wyoming’s identity because we’ve seen how hard-won it is.

But that perspective, if not tempered with humility, can come across as arrogant. As if being born here makes someone more Wyoming than anyone else. That’s not how it works.

Newcomers bring a great deal to the table. New ideas, new businesses, new energy. They’ve made a deliberate choice to be here, and that matters.

The growth of communities like Sheridan owes much to companies like Kennon, EMIT Technologies, Vacutech, and Weatherby—none of which would exist without people who chose Wyoming. And their founders did not just invest in those businesses, they have invested in our community.

Still, there’s a learning curve. Some arrive eager to project experiences in their prior states onto this one—expecting us to match their politics, their policies, or their pace of life. Others move here but never quite engage, staying disconnected from local schools, churches, and civic life. That’s a loss, for them and for the rest of us.

We’re not asking anyone to prove themselves with a birth certificate. But we are asking them to show up, dig in, and be Wyoming. Not “Not California.” Not “Not Colorado.” Just Wyoming.

We also know our grandparents and great-grandparents were once newcomers too. They came from Germany, England, Mexico, China, Eastern Europe and the Basque country. They built ranches, stores, schools.

They taught us resilience, independence, and the importance of being a good neighbor. They welcomed the stranger. Over the generations, we’ve stood at the door doing the same.

Meanwhile, there’s another group watching all of this—our Native American neighbors—who could rightly call all the rest of us interlopers. Too often, the foundations on which we stand were built at their expense. Appreciation for the traditions and contributions of the Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone has come slowly and still has a long way to go.

Arguing over how many decades your family has been here feels a bit ironic from that vantage point.

What’s more troubling is when new arrivals push to remake Wyoming into a caricature of what they think a “deep red” state resembles. When long-time civic leaders—people who’ve spent years holding things together—get written off as “good old boys,” their accomplishments are dismissed as well.

There’s a real risk of losing the very culture that drew people here in the first place.

Wyoming’s political and civic landscape isn’t perfect, but it didn’t spring up overnight. It’s the product of hard work, compromise, and an ethic that values contribution over credentials.

Our prairies are remarkably productive, but they’re also fragile. If you plow them up and plant something that doesn’t belong, you end up with bindweed and cheatgrass. Our culture’s not so different. It needs to be tended with respect.

These arguments about who belongs and who doesn’t are not just unproductive—they’re divisive. Wyoming has never been one thing. Our strength is in working together, building communities, and honoring both the past and the possibilities ahead.

People like to describe the United States as a melting pot. I think Wyoming’s more like a campfire stew.

Each ingredient retains its own character but contributes something essential to the whole. That’s what makes it satisfying. That’s what makes it Wyoming.

Readers may reach Gail Symons at GailSymons@icloud.com