The images were surreal. Thousands of people huddled together, in harsh conditions, finding a way to survive without money. Only these people weren't on the Gulf Coast; they were in the Nevada desert. Refugees from capitalism, they called themselves. They wore pink fake fur boots and clear plastic pants. They painted their nipples bright colors and rode bikes topless across the playa. They created a commerce-free, art-filled city for 8 days, in which people could dance for their falafel and sing for their mimosas and grab rides on giant pirate ships with wheels. This was Burning Man, 2005.
I know it is frivolous of me to even begin to compare the annual Burning Man festival with the overwhelming catastrophe in the Gulf Coast. There is no direct parallel between intentional, artful chaos and the tragic, devastating chaos left in Katrina's wake. There is no direct parallel between people (predominantly white,) who have chosen to live without money for a few days, and people (predominantly black) who were born into crushing poverty. There is no direct parallel between a searing, alkaline dust-filled desert playground and communities flooded under 25 feet of water. Still, as I kept seeing references to both stories in the media, strange parallels wouldn't stop forming in my mind.
Both the Burners in Nevada and the victims of Katrina live on the fringe of our society. When Bush addresses his fellow Americans, it is obvious that he is not speaking of, or speaking to, radical artists or poor people who have fallen through the cracks. And Bush's failure to act promptly and compassionately after Katrina struck only highlights the fact that he does not care about those living on the edge in our country.
Our administration can learn a lot from Burning Man. If you go to the Burning Man website, you will find detailed tips on how to survive life in the desert. The organizers advocate "radical self-reliance", in which every person is responsible for his or her own well-being in the fierce landscape, but they also have programs in place-medical and legal and environmental-to help those who fall into trouble. It is clear that our government didn't have such effective plans in place. Their inaction inspired "every person for themselves" conditions, "radical self-reliance" taken to dangerous and tragic extremes.
In both cases, though, the people have risen up to help one another. At Burning Man, people shared food and water and other supplies; after Katrina, millions of people have opened their wallets, opened their homes, to aid the victims. And the victims are helping one another, as well-including taking it upon themselves to bury their own when those in charge are just leaving bodies to rot in the street.
Much like Mardi Gras, Burning Man is all about letting go of inhibitions and finding new and surprising ways of living in the world. It is clear after Hurricane Katrina that we all need to find new ways of living in the world, ways that will ensure that the most vulnerable, the most fringe, among us are never forgotten again.
Gayle Brandeis is the author of Fruitflesh: Seeds of Inspiration for Women Who Write (HarperSanFrancisco) and The Book of Dead Birds: A Novel (HarperCollins), which won Barbara Kingsolver's Bellwether Prize for Fiction in Support of a Literature of Social Change.
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