Falling Between the Cracks: When Disaster Aid Doesn’t Reach Everyone
Disasters don’t discriminate, but unfortunately, disaster relief often does. When a hurricane, flood, wildfire, or other crisis strikes, the expectation is that aid will follow swiftly, ensuring that those in need receive assistance to rebuild their lives. But for many, reality looks quite different.
After Hurricane Helene devastated communities across North Carolina, recovery efforts surged. Federal, state, and non-profit organizations mobilized to provide aid, yet many survivors found themselves ineligible for assistance—not because they didn’t suffer losses, but because of bureaucratic red tape.
The Unseen Survivors
Some of the most vulnerable individuals are those who fall just outside the eligibility lines:
Homeowners whose zip codes weren’t included in a federal or state disaster declaration, despite sustaining significant damage.
Renters who lost everything but don’t qualify for housing assistance because they weren’t property owners.
Individuals denied aid due to income thresholds, even though they don’t have the means to recover on their own.
Families who were displaced but don’t meet FEMA’s strict definition of “disaster-related” housing loss.
For these survivors, the struggle isn’t just about rebuilding a home—it’s about finding stability, advocating for themselves, and searching for alternative resources where few exist.
The Reality of Recovery
Disaster recovery is often portrayed as a coordinated effort that brings communities back stronger than before. But what happens when there is no clear path forward? When you’ve lost everything but are told you don’t meet the criteria for assistance? Many are left scrambling for help, relying on personal savings, community donations, or crowdfunding just to cover basic needs. Others are forced into long-term displacement, moving from shelter to shelter or staying with family and friends indefinitely.
My Personal Experience: More Than a Dot on the Map
In my own experience following Hurricane Helene, I encountered this reality firsthand. While I was actively engaged in the emergency response, my own home took on nearly three feet of water. Furniture was lost, walls were ruined, and the emotional toll was immense. But because my county didn’t receive a federal disaster declaration, I was ineligible for federal assistance. In addition, there was no state assistance, and my homeowner’s insurance denied my claim, leaving the damages uncovered.
Despite this, our county Emergency Management team was incredibly responsive in documenting damages and reports, providing all the assistance they could. However, ultimately, there were not enough damages across the county to meet the threshold for an official designation. Even though I am part of many business, professional, and community organizations and associations, resources were not allocated to my area, and applications for aid were either unavailable or outright denied.
I am incredibly thankful for a few close-knit friends, colleagues, the Emergency Nurses Association, the Board of Certified Emergency Nurses, North Carolina CERT teams, private sector rockstars, and those who are still actively working through the Helene recovery efforts at the State Emergency Operations Center. Without each and every one of them, experiencing and navigating through this process would have been even more isolating. They are truly the unsung heroes.
But the hardest part in all of this? Asking for help.
I have always been the helper, the giver—the one stepping up when someone else needs something. My thoughts always seemed to be: I know I have been impacted by this storm event, but so many others have lost everything—who am I to complain? So, I just kept throwing everything I had—physically and emotionally—into assisting others to keep myself from having to react to my own trauma.
I eventually came to realize that my personal impact was just as significant to me and my situation as those in the heaviest-hit areas—no matter where my heart and my zip code lie. But I let the frustration, stress, lack of response, dismissiveness, guilt, and constant feeling of being ignored simmer deep inside. And now, it is attempting to escape.
I am a person.
I matter.
I am more than a statistic.
More than a dot on a map.
I am worthy of assistance.
You always hear, If you need anything—just ask. But now, after asking and asking, and feeling like a broken record, I’m left wondering: Is anyone really listening?
A Call for Change
The current system leaves too many behind. We need:
• More inclusive disaster relief programs that recognize the nuances of impact rather than rigid geographical designations.
• Increased funding for community-based organizations that can step in when federal aid isn’t available.
• Streamlined assistance processes that remove unnecessary barriers to support.
• Better awareness of alternative resources so survivors know where to turn when traditional aid falls short.
If you or someone you know has been affected but does not qualify for assistance, I encourage you to seek out local relief organizations, non-profits, and community support networks. The North Carolina Disaster Case Management Program (1-844-746-2326) is one potential resource, but there need to be more options. If we truly want to build resilient communities, we must ensure that no one falls through the cracks when disaster strikes.
The North Carolina Department of Public Safety (NCDPS) has a dedicated section on their website for Hurricane Helene. This section provides information and resources for residents and visitors impacted by the hurricane. You can access it here: Hurricane Helene
