A few months back, if someone had asked what I knew about mahjong, I likely would have called it a pastime for older women like my grandma, and I had zero interest in trying it.

Then I got hooked.

After my cousin relocated nearer to me, she mentioned wanting to learn mahjong and wondered if I could show her how. My initial reaction was that if she, a millennial, felt curious, I as a Gen Zer might not be alone among younger learners. I had also heard many compliments about the game from my mom's circle over time.

Soon my mom and a family friend decided to join in, so the four of us enrolled in lessons as a group.

Mahjong, originating in mid-19th-century China, is gaining fresh attention as individuals seek more in-person social pursuits - and after trying it, I see the draw.

These days I gather with them several evenings each month, mixing tiles, discussing tactics, and recalling which discards might return to trouble me later.

Learning how to play

Mahjong reached the US from China in the 1920s and evolved into the American style. When I first sat down, the learning curve proved steeper than anticipated.

Initially the bright tiles seemed identical, and each round felt like managed disorder. Endless regulations, plans, and sets needed memorizing. The opening classes left me fully swamped.

There were times I nearly quit. I could not fathom how others tracked every move on the board.

Yet after several meetings, patterns started to appear. The tactics grew more natural. Rather than random pieces, I spotted chances. The game gradually clicked.

Now I fully see why players can linger for hours at a mahjong table without losing interest.

The best part isn't the game

Like many in my age group, I sought more than a new pastime when I began - I wanted an excuse to reduce screen time and increase direct human contact.

My typical day unfolds online. I work at a computer, chat via Slack and email, browse social feeds, and relax with shows. Even many friendships stay digital through messaging.

Unlike those habits, mahjong requires complete focus. Its rhythm keeps everyone alert, observing others, and responding instantly.

For those hours, alerts fade away.

The activity also built a social habit that feels uncommon now: time when all participants share one pursuit.

Younger players are picking up mahjong

The longer I have played, the clearer it becomes that mahjong's rise among younger adults fits a pattern.

It aligns with rising interest in offline activities that foster genuine ties, such as running groups, reading circles, pickleball teams, and shared meals, where participants seek community. Recent data showed searches for mahjong groups and instruction jumped sharply last year.

Numerous clubs nationwide report more young attendees. One San Francisco spot regularly attracts up to 200 players with waitlists, while a New York venue draws younger people reconnecting with heritage.

Reports also note younger crowds at fashionable clubs and events, plus purchases of premium sets, turning the game into a stylish gathering option.

Oddly, I might never have started without noticing it online more often, yet what holds me is the opposite of typical digital platforms.

I have found that mahjong values patience over quick rewards. It favors live talk instead of scrolling. And it supplies a motive to set my phone aside for hours and attend fully to those across the table.