Nothing prepared me for Hurricane Helene. One year ago, the storm pummeled the mountains and valleys of Western North Carolina and the small college where I live and teach.
The night of the floods, I lay alone in bed listening to the popping of pine trees falling. Then I woke to silence—the calm after the storm—and saw trees sliced through neighbors’ homes with power lines dangling in driveways. It would be weeks before we had electricity and nearly two months before we had potable water.
In the last year, I’ve seen firsthand how community is critical for facing climate disasters. As the Trump administration dismantled federal agencies like FEMA, the U.S. experienced a total of 27 climate disasters last year with $1 billion in damages each, more than five times the rate of 100 years ago. Yet studies have shown that neighborhoods with social infrastructure have increased capacity to survive such threats.
“Are you coming to the meeting?” my duplex neighbor asked after we’d assessed the flooding in the basement of our rental. Through word-of-mouth, we’d heard about the community meeting at 9:30 a.m. outside the college cafeteria. As students, staff, and faculty gathered, the college president assured us we would work together. “The interstates are closed and bridges are out,” he said. “But we’re going to take care of each other and the community.”
And so began the daily practice of “morning meetings” with updates from command central, a worn-out conference room in the cafeteria, powered by a generator. “Okay, we need 25 people to clear roads and 10 to make lunches.” With such directives, I joined a group clearing tree limbs off the streets. A retired electrician found a well so teams could haul non-potable water to flush toilets.
Read more: A Look at Damage From Hurricane Helene
As roads opened up, my lens on…
