asheville and our social feeds post hurricane helene
how the power of community is showing up in the face of horror
I’m sitting in Miami with my casual comforts, typing this out, but my heart is in Asheville. Hurricanes aren’t supposed to hit the haven nestled in the western mountains of North Carolina. They’re supposed to hit the peninsula where I currently am. But Hurricane Helene came through like a monster in a horror film, flooding and completely decimating the streets of Asheville’s once perfect Instagram-worthy destination, with little to no warning or time to prepare. The mountain views, breweries, and artsy downtown vibe, swallowed by nature’s wrath, misdirected by the consequences of human action on the planet. My second home, a place I retreat to, is underwater. The people of Appalachia are living the nightmare that exists within the back of every Floridian's mind. AND THAT'S NOT NORMAL.
It is utterly ironic and that doesn’t go over my head. While I’m watching videos from the 828, I’m sitting in my home with wifi, power, and my stupid green juice powdered drink. But Asheville? The signal is nonexistent. The content has gone from beautifully curated to raw, text based updates and videos of indecipherable area damage. People in Asheville aren’t posting OOTD updates or GRWMs, instead, they're posting statuses ranging from “we're ok” to “has anyone heard from my elderly parents on Reems Creek Road?” to life saving tips in text format. The format of content has changed because it has to. It’s a form of crucial communication.
The ways people are staying connected in this disaster via social media deserves to be broken down, so let’s do that. Facebook, the same platform we make fun of lately, is now a search engine for survival. There’s a Facebook group called Hurricane Helene: N. Asheville/Weaverville/Woodfin/Mars Hill. I joined it when there were under 200 people. Now it’s over 2,000 strong. People found it by searching for specific street names to determine if their loved ones were safe and for status updates. Early posts were not giving any hope, featuring photos of missing family members and frantic pleas for any news. But slowly, updates started to come in. A Google Sheet even began circulating, where people could input the names of loved ones and confirm if contact has been made or if they’re still missing. It’s a sobering yet community based tool that makes sense while cell service is mostly down and spotty.
A surreal layer I can’t stop thinking about is that signal is so fucked after Helene, that Elon Musk’s Starlink is now a communication lifeline for Western NC. The irony of needing a billionaire’s satellites to connect people to their families is wild, especially in such a liberal place like Asheville. It feels like a sci-fi plot where the villain becomes the hero. And Elon, with all his problematic bigotry, swoops in to save the day with Starlink. It’s a genre of tech dystopia we read about, but now it’s woven into Helene's aftermath in a place that otherwise wouldn’t want to welcome him. *WARNING ABOUT THE ABSURD AI SUPERMAN ELON IMAGERY BELOW…*
Watching updates load on screen is a bad dream. I scroll past pics of people’s pumpkin spiced lattes, then a video of a place I consider a second home and people I care for in complete ruin. The algorithm doesn’t care about what’s happening in the world. It’s just feeding us content. And the juxtaposition of it all is beyond jarring. Selfies, food pics, and then utter devastation. It’s subliminal whiplash to code switch from normalcy to chaos. The world is supposed to move on, but we’re in a time loop, constantly refreshing, waiting for the next update.
Tiktok failed to load.Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser
Even though social media is a window into the horrors of Helene, it’s also a force that’s holding people together. Asheville is steadfastly grassroots, and they’re rallying together because that’s their spirit. They’re using social media to start fundraisers, to coordinate donation drop off points, to facilitate Venmo payments to help those in the service industry, a massive part of Asheville’s economy. Bills still need to be paid, even when the world is literally upside down.
Our feeds are showing a full spectrum… The cracks, the darkness, and the brutal reality of Helene. But it’s also showing resilience. The Asheville we know isn’t just the breweries and the stunning fall leaf views. It’s a place where people are refusing to back down, even while facing a never before seen and overwhelming trauma. For everyone watching it happen on our screens, it’s just a post… But for those who are there IRL, it’s literally life. In this messy, insane, confusing, and hyperconnected world, social media gives us a front row seat to it all. The good. The bad. The ugly. The heartbreaking. But also, the hope. The ways that community will rebuild and is fighting. Piece by piece, post by post.
If you can afford to donate, here are people and places I <3 and pray to see rebuild.
