Why you go to Burning Man?

Every year, around the last weekend of August, have you noticed the line at your favorite brunch spot is a bit shorter than usual? That’s right—Burning Man is happening right now, and some of San Francisco’s pickiest foodies are out in the desert. Today, I will share how Burning Man profoundly impacted my life and transformed my worldview. I first attended Burning Man in 2016, and have gone there three times since then.

What is it?

For those unfamiliar, Burning Man is a week-long event where 80,000 people converge on a dry, flat desert in Nevada. They build a temporary city, bringing art, music, food, and their answers to the question: “If I could do anything I wanted, what would I contribute?” After the week, participants burn some of the art, restore the desert to its original state, and depart. It’s far from a relaxing vacation. There’s extensive preparation, setup, and tear-down work. You must survive for a week in a desert that actively attempts to kill anything. The event has a reputation for wild parties, substances, and casual hookups, and I often field questions about whether these rumors are true. Yes, they are indeed all true but they are not all reasons why it is my favorite place on Earth.

Being normal

Growing up, I strived to be “normal” as our culture teaches us. But I wasn’t. I had a physical condition that affected multiple joints in my body, leading to a life punctuated by surgeries and hospital stays—quite different from my friends’ experiences. I never saw myself as “normal.” My parents, worried about others judging me as inadequate, advised me not to mention my condition to anyone—not my boss, friends, or even loved ones. When people asked about my scars, my mind applied the brakes, fearing judgment. I’ve always struggled to open up to strangers and show my true self. My mind often assumes others won’t understand me. At my first Burning Man, I was alone—my friend had canceled at the last minute. Initially, I felt out of place, surrounded by people from all walks of life who seemed so different from me. But at Burning Man, I repeatedly connected with people who genuinely wanted to know me. I even received heartfelt motherly advice from moms at “Mom Camp” about the struggle I had at the time with my family. I embraced the freedom to be a version of myself beyond my job, origins, or appearance, asking for the first time, “What’s it like to be honest with myself and others?” The connection formed through hugs, laughter, and crying during the week made me realize the universal struggle we all face: to be understood and supported.

Letting go

Burning Man teaches you about scarcity and abundance simultaneously, and where you fall between the two. At Burning Man, everything is free, and possibilities seem endless. Imagine a city where every citizen is on vacation, free to do anything without judgment. You can dance for 24 hours straight because there’s always a party somewhere. When you’re exhausted, hungry, and miles from your camp with a broken bike, a pancake truck might appear out of the dust—a father-daughter duo cooking pancakes with every topping imaginable. We call these serendipitous moments “playa provides.”

Yet, your body needs rest, and even without breaks, you can’t possibly experience everything. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll grow irritable and close off your mind. You must learn to let go and practice self-care to stay curious and open-hearted, as this experience lasts only a week. Because it’s just one out of 52 weeks in the year and we cherish our time there so much, everyone tries to bring their best selves—though sometimes our worst sides emerge too. When I asked my friend Cody “why he goes to Burning Man”, he said he goes there to gauge how much he’s grown over the past year. I go there to understand this balance to take the full experience and take care of my need to stay as the best version I want to be.

Giving

At Burning Man, there’s no division between consumers and creators—everyone co-creates together. But as in any human society, some contribute more than others. During my first Burn, I noticed “camp dads” constantly maintaining things, and fixing infrastructure that struggled in the harsh climate. As an adult, I realized I’d never given to others without expecting something in return. I couldn’t understand why veteran Burners put themselves in these positions—some even jokingly called it their “working man” instead of Burning Man.

After my first Burn, inspired by this spirit of giving without expecting in return, I volunteered with Shanti, an organization providing caregiving for terminally ill people. I learned a lot about supporting others in need and enjoyed connecting with them and other volunteers. Since then, I’ve dedicated part of my time at Burning Man to volunteering. Now, I’m a Black Rock Ranger, part of a non-confrontational mediation group that keeps the Burn both fun and safe for everyone.

So, why do people go to Burning Man? It’s an almost impossible question to answer. And Burning Man never gives you what you want and expect. But if you’re curious about it after hearing about my experience, give it a try!