I went to a $5,000 ‘man camp’ in California. It took a surprising turn

I Went to a $5,000 ‘Man Camp’ in California. It Took an Unexpected Turn

I went to a 5 000 man – There’s a certain kind of vulnerability that comes when someone looks directly into your soul. It’s not always comfortable, but it can be revealing. This feeling struck me on day three of a transformative week, as I sat across from a woman in a quiet, dimly lit room. Her words pierced through the surface of my carefully curated exterior, and I felt my defenses begin to crumble. “I sense we’re missing the connection you’re really seeking,” she said—what I later realized was a subtle way of saying, “I see through your pretenses.”

The Man Camp Experiment

My journey to this experience was driven by a story I was assigned: a five-day retreat for men in Sonoma, California, where participants are encouraged to re-examine their relationship with masculinity. The concept intrigued me, but what made it distinct was the fact that it was founded and led by Lori Jean Glass, a life coach who had previously worked in licensed treatment facilities. Her team of female facilitators brought a unique perspective to the event, which was designed to help men confront emotional isolation and the toxic ideologies that have taken root in the manosphere.

As a journalist, I had always believed in keeping myself in the background. But this assignment demanded something different. The retreat was meant to be an immersive journey, and to truly understand its impact, I needed to participate fully. Glass had agreed to let CNN observe her program, but only if we were willing to undergo the same process as the men. That meant no phones, no distractions, and a willingness to open up about personal struggles that had long been buried.

When I arrived after a two-hour drive from San Francisco, I felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Glass, who seemed slightly anxious about our presence, greeted us with a calm determination. She had already set the tone for the retreat: this was a space for introspection, not performance. The other participants were about to arrive, and the atmosphere shifted as the group began to form. Conversations flowed quickly, and the initial awkwardness gave way to a shared sense of purpose.

A Closer Look at the Manosphere

The manosphere has been a topic of growing concern in recent years. Defined as a network of men who often embrace a confrontational, even misogynistic, view of the world, it has become synonymous with the emotional struggles of modern masculinity. The pandemic exacerbated these issues, leaving many men isolated and struggling to find meaning in their roles as providers and protectors. Yet, until now, the narrative had focused on the problem, not the solution.

That’s where Glass’s retreat came in. She had previously led women’s wellness programs under her company, Pivot, but had recently expanded her work to include male-only camps. Her approach was rooted in the idea that men need to connect with each other emotionally to heal from the disconnection that has defined their lives. “We’re not just teaching them to be better men,” she explained. “We’re helping them rediscover the human side they’ve neglected.”

Inside the camp, the environment was intentionally designed to foster openness. The first evening was spent in small groups, where men shared stories of loss, identity, and fear. One participant, Matt, spoke about grieving his father’s passing, a former NFL player and college football coach whose absence left him feeling adrift. Another, Jason, described the emotional toll of his wife’s breast cancer diagnosis, which had forced him to confront his own sense of self-worth. Geoff, meanwhile, expressed worries about his children growing up and leaving home, leaving him and his wife to navigate an empty nest.

“I feel like we’re missing whatever you’re wanting to connect on,” the woman across from me said — life-coach talk for “I see through your bullsh*t.”

These stories, raw and unfiltered, created a powerful sense of camaraderie. As the days passed, the retreat evolved from a structured program into a deeply personal experience. I found myself reflecting on my own assumptions about masculinity, the roles I had played, and the emotions I had kept hidden. The camp was not just about healing—it was about transformation.

Challenging My Own Assumptions

At first, I was skeptical. Glass was a life coach, and while her team included female facilitators, none were trained psychotherapists. California, with its reputation for New Age wellness trends, had always felt a bit like a place of spiritual escape. I wondered whether this retreat could truly address deep-seated issues or if it was just another trendy solution to a complex problem.

But as I sat in those sessions, the doubts began to fade. The men were not just talking about their struggles—they were confronting them. There was a sense of honesty that permeated the air, as if the camp had stripped away the layers of social conditioning that often kept men emotionally guarded. “This isn’t about fixing men,” one participant said. “It’s about helping them understand themselves better.”

By the end of the week, I had learned more about my own psyche than I ever expected. The experience challenged my role as a journalist, forcing me to question whether the stories I told were always objective or if they were shaped by my own biases. I had come to Sonoma to observe, but I left with a deeper appreciation for the emotional landscape of men’s lives. The retreat had become a mirror, reflecting both the crisis and the potential for renewal.

The Cost of Connection

$5,000 for five days in a secluded California setting—what some might call an extravagant investment. But for these men, the cost was justified. In a world where mental health struggles are often dismissed or overlooked, the retreat offered a rare space for emotional exploration. The experience was immersive, demanding, and, at times, uncomfortable. Yet, it was also profoundly rewarding.

As I prepared to leave, I realized that the camp had done more than just help its participants. It had changed the way I viewed the concept of masculinity itself. No longer was it a rigid set of expectations; it was a fluid, evolving force that could be redefined through connection and vulnerability. The retreat was a reminder that even the most guarded souls can find a way to open up when given the right environment.

For Glass, the project was a labor of love. “We’re trying to give men a chance to see themselves clearly,” she said. “To realize that they’re not just defined by their roles or their fears.” Her work, she explained, was about creating a space where men could reclaim their emotional intelligence and build a more authentic sense of identity. The camp was not a cure-all, but it was a starting point—a place where the silence of the manosphere could be broken, one honest conversation at a time.

As I drove back to San Francisco, the weight of the experience lingered. The retreat had been an unexpected journey into the heart of masculinity, revealing both its challenges and its beauty. For the men I met, it was a chance to rediscover themselves. For me, it was a reminder that sometimes, the best way to understand a story is to live it. And in doing so, I found that the most powerful narratives are often the ones that make us look inward, rather than outward.