The morning Hurricane Helene hit Asheville, members of our collective sat in the dark, listening to the howling wind and the crack of huge trees falling all around. When we emerged Friday evening to take stock, a cardboard sign on our co-op’s door read “Community meeting here, Saturday at 2pm. Let’s talk about how we can take care of each other + community.” That first autonomous act by an anonymous neighbor set the stage for the week, with Firestorm becoming a container for other people’s brilliant, beautiful, and generous self-organizing.
About forty people attended the first meeting. Nearly four hundred attended the next one. The gatherings, now a daily anchor, have generated a multitude of connections and volunteer powered projects. Before city officials had finished assessing the damage, community members were sharing supplies, doing wellness checks, and serving hot meals. Over the next few days, things became more organized. Anarchist arborists collected chainsaws and dispatched crews to clear roads for trapped residents; activists mobilized to build long term water distribution systems capable of delivering 6k gallons/day; bike punks offered free repair clinics; a farmer began driving regular water supply loops to Firestorm from a nearby spring; and an enthusiastic DIY-er set up a tent to distribute dry toilets made from affordable materials.
In the midst of this anarchic moment, Firestorm isn’t setting the agenda or directing anyone—we’re offering a space that welcomes independent initiative, we’re supporting the exchange of critical information, and we’re modeling a do-it-ourselves approach that’s responsive, experimental, and human-scale.
Yes, government and NGO aid is now flowing into the region—but the work of caring for one another continues to be done by neighbors, grassroots organizations, small businesses, and activists. It’s done voluntarily, with thousands of autonomous actions synchronized through a shared solidarity. For a brief moment, the logic of the capitalist market is suspended, care is given freely, and everyone contributes what they can.
It’s a strange paradox that the utopia we dream of becomes most visible in the dark.