Deep River Blues

The devastation in Western North Carolina + ways to help.

I keep trying to write about the devastation that Hurricane Helene caused in Western North Carolina and I am at a loss. I’ve been stuck for days trying to articulate just how bad it is, just how disappointing it is that it’s not getting more national news coverage. 

I still don’t have the words but it’s Wednesday, the day my newsletter needs to go out, and so I’ll attempt to make something stick, and then use this space to point you in the direction of a friend in the area who is doing good work there and some places to give money. 

To try and sum up what Appalachia means to me is impossible. My mother met my father and then had me in a tiny foothill town half an hour down the mountain from Boone, NC. Appalachia is my home, yes, but all the blood in my veins flows from those mountains. It’s a part of me and I am a part of it.

I’ve been trying my hand at writing a longform story about Appalachia, a witch story. It took me by surprise when it came to me a couple months ago, but, then again, it felt like it had been there all along. Strangely enough, after I wrote my plot map and the first couple of chapters, I started the dedication to my grandmother, a woman who’s as Appalachian as they come. I wrote it in parking lots along a drive back home to Nashville, and it sums a big part of why I love where I’m from.

To be Appalachian is to be familiar with conjuring something out of nothing. Our grandmothers and their grandmothers made livings for themselves not because they were trying to be feminists, but because they had to and because it made sense.

They made money by stitching fabric into quilts and tending babies and making pies and canning beans. Our ancestors made music out of instruments they made themselves, in circles on porches and in backyards.

To be Appalachian is to know suffering, often intimately. It is also possessing the ability to alchemize what’s left after that suffering and turning what remains into joy.

If I can tell you anything about Appalachia, it is this: the region is no stranger to suffering, yet they always make something out of it. It is the blood in their veins. They will continue to take care of themselves and help their neighbors. 

In the days after the hurricane hit the area, I was able to contact all my family members in Wilkes County, who were just without power and with diminished cell service. I was able to reach all of my friends in Asheville, Canton, and Black Mountain, who were in way worse shape but alive, well, and safe. The area is so resilient, but the destruction is massive and widespread.

The hurricane caused dams to break, rivers to spill over their borders to record highs, and widespread flooding and mudslides. The wind downed large trees. Roads became impassable or washed out altogether. Many people are still missing. It is hard to communicate how hard these areas were hit.

My dear friend and Asheville resident Thomas Flight made this video and will be documenting the ongoing relief efforts and the impacts of the flooding and mudslides on the Asheville community and the surrounding areas. He does excellent work, and I highly recommend you subscribe to his newsletter here.

Scenes From A Disaster

The infrastructure will take weeks if not months to restore, and in the meantime the area could really use our help.

If you are looking for a good place to donate I would recommend local non-profit Beloved Asheville who is handing out food and water in the area, and I would give there as opposed to ARC or any other large conglomerate. The Washington Post has compiled a list of ways to help the area here as well. World Central Kitchen is also active in preparing hot food and distributing water across four states that were heavily impacted by Hurricane Helene and you can donate here.