When floodwaters consumed the only roads into their Appalachian town, the community’s survival hinged on the deep trust and organizing muscle built by a local group over years, proving that true disaster resilience is forged long before the storm ever hits.
On the morning of September 27th, 2024, Nancy Weaver stood in front of a bridge on NC-194 and watched Buffalo Creek, usually knee-deep at most, surge over the top. She had been trying to get home to Warrensville, but the bridge, and every other road leading there, was consumed by water. So she turned around and headed to Hatchet West, a favorite neighborhood coffee shop in West Jefferson, North Carolina.
Inside, a crowd of people drank coffee (free for the day) and tried to make sense of what was happening.
“We haven’t heard from our grandparents out in Creston –– the road’s closed and we haven’t been able to reach them on the phone.”
“88 is out, I can’t get to my folks.”
“I haven’t had cell or internet at the house; I have no idea what’s going on.”
Everyone had a story. Everyone had people they were worrying about. And slowly, as a community, everyone was trying to figure out just what to do.
A few days later and 20 miles south, in neighboring Watauga County, Kyle O’Bryan walked into the Dan’l Boone Inn, an old restaurant in the middle of Boone. He turned and walked down a long, dark hallway, dodging people left and right. All of them were volunteers. The whole restaurant had been transformed into a supply depot.
Looking for a familiar face, he turned the corner into what looked like a war room. Maps and papers were scattered across the tables with seemingly important people making decisions over them.
Kyle wanted to help, but everyone seemed so scatterbrained that they couldn’t definitively place him anywhere. He had heard enough to know that there were folks that had been sent out into the county to search not only for survivors but for bodies as well. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle anything like that, so to protect his mental wellbeing, he spoke up and placed himself organizing supplies.
It was chaotic. No one had a clear direction. Everyone was just doing what they could, and that worked.
Weeks passed and the group of volunteers were still just as busy, but they had become more organized.
By mid October, their team had already dwindled from hundreds of volunteers, to a few dozen at most. At this point, they had moved out of the restaurant and back to their small office, which had been converted into a “free store.” Anyone could walk in and grab any supplies off the shelves, no questions asked.
This was essential for recovery, as Helene wasn’t only an environmental disaster but an economic one as well.
They also had crews that focused on recovery work out in the rest of the region. This team conducted muck-outs and river cleanups almost daily.
In the months after the storm, Nancy, Kyle, and the rest of the volunteer effort surveyed over 800 people, organized 330+ volunteers, and distributed tens of thousands of dollars in supplies. They sent a group to DC to lobby and secure $1.4 billion in long-term funds for NC, as part of a $100 billion package nationwide.
Those funds were intended to be used for directly affected low-income residents to have any chance at repairing their lives and rebuilding their homes. So, Down Home’s Western NC chapters came together to ensure that as many people who needed those funds as possible had access to them. And, to ensure that the wealthy second home owners and housing developers had no ability to interfere with that access. Members committed to building their skills and their numbers to challenge the systems that might place profit over people, and tip the scales in favor of their people.
Helene was Kyle’s first real introduction into the world of organizing, and the long term effects of the disaster were starting to become more apparent. He and several others were inspired by how the community turned out to help in the immediate aftermath and decided to keep organizing long term.
So many working class families and individuals fell through the cracks of the relief effort and continue to struggle from the impacts and damages from the storm. And in response to the extensive damages to rental housing, some property managers took the opportunity to hike up rent prices in the area, seemingly to offload the cost of repairs onto the tenants. Additionally, repairs were being rushed, some without permits and therefore without proper safety protocols or inspections.
Kyle’s apartment building fell victim to these practices. He and his neighbors were presented with a “repaired” laundry room that had received almost no mold remediation or removal. Kyle was able to rally his neighbors around demanding a new laundry room, which was opened up a few months later. He now organizes across the county around housing standards for tenants.
Now, almost a year after the storm, here is what Kyle and the organizers he worked with learned.
The first lesson is to think long-term from the very beginning. This is easier said than done: that initial phase of crisis is all-consuming, and finding and meeting people’s immediate needs so easily takes over everything. But baking in more long-term thinking from the very beginning is vital in order to build the power needed to keep organizing going months after the storm. They saw numbers dwindle, and part of that is unavoidable, but if their team had thought more long-term earlier and established more concrete structures earlier on, they could have held on to more of that initial surge.
A second lesson was the impact of trauma. It WILL show up, it will creep up on people, and it will come out in lots of different ways. From burnout and breakdowns to some who would refuse to stop working and take time for themselves to process and unwind. A candlelight vigil was held, but more people could have been directed to the proper mental health resources.
But more than any other, the storm taught them the value and the power of having already been organized. Down Home had been organizing, base building, and developing leaders in the area for 2 years prior. Without that work –– without establishing the trust and credibility, without having leaders they had trained and developed, and without having a base of people who could imagine organizing in the way they did –– there is no way they could have accomplished what they did.
There are always ways to improve and lessons to be learned. But Helene showed everyone involved how true the saying is: an organized community is a safe community. When we continue to organize, we make our communities more resilient, no matter what comes our way.
