When I was visiting my family for Christmas a few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to collaborate with a local church to deliver Christmas gifts and supplies to families in my home county of less than 20,000 people, located on the North Carolina-Tennessee border.
This experience allowed me to hear the stories of my neighbors, many of whom I’ve known my entire life.
One story stood out to me. A multigenerational family of six living in a fifth-wheel trailer. They had lost their home and everything they valued, except their faith.
Unfortunately, their story is all too common in the small mountain towns of Southern Appalachia.
It’s been nearly five months since Hurricane Helene permanently altered the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina.
In the months since, we’ve witnessed the true nature of humanity.
Our community has come together. Businesses are helping each other clean up and rebuild. Churches continue to deliver warm clothes and hot meals on foot and horseback. Nonprofits from across the southeast are delivering essential supplies like diapers, blankets, and baby formula.
Elon Musk, with the help of private citizens such as former NASCAR driver Greg Biffle and the Cajun Navy, delivered Starlink routers to every corner of Western North Carolina, connecting us to the rest of the world.
Western North Carolina and southern Appalachia are rebuilding on their own.
Despite the incredible efforts of leaders such as Congressman Chuck Edwards and Senators Thom Tillis and Ted Budd, the federal government has been slow to respond and provide assistance.
Partisan politics has slowed relief efforts, with many in Raleigh and Washington prioritizing party over people.
With temperatures plummeting and inches of snow falling each week, many North Carolinians remain homeless and rely on tents for shelter.
FEMA delivered trailers to the region but failed to efficiently approve those who applied for them nearly five months ago.
Appalachia’s resilience shines brightly through this storm. Despite attempts by instigators on both sides to exploit the disaster for political gain, our communities have banded together to assist one another.
Towns such as Marshall, North Carolina, plan to reopen in the coming months despite the fact that more than half of the town was destroyed by flood waters.
In the more than 25 years that I have lived in Western North Carolina, I have never seen a stronger community.
However, our community’s strength and resilience can only keep our sense of normalcy for so long.
Western North Carolina is desperate.
Leaders on both sides of the aisle must hold accountable the government bureaucracy that is ignoring the needs of our communities.
Winter has only just begun. With temperatures in the single digits and windchills in the negatives, churches and nonprofits are springing into action to fill the ever-present void left by inefficient government red tape.
The time to act was five months ago, but late action is preferable to no action.
Our community desperately needs investments in affordable housing and infrastructure to boost local economies and provide families with the resources they require to get back on their feet.
Insurance companies are redefining flood zones, pricing many families out of their homes and properties. The Small Business Administration is running out of funds, slowing recovery in regions that desperately need economic opportunity.
County and municipal governments are relying on the slow distribution of disaster relief funds to bring critical services back online.
This is not a political issue and should not cause controversy. For over a century, our federal government has ignored Appalachia. Now, when we need them most, they can’t be bothered to act quickly.
Helene will not define Appalachia; it will be defined by the overwhelming response of those who live in these mountains.
