Little Crabtree Creek is littered with storm debris and vehicles, on Thursday, Oct. 17, 2024, three weeks after Hurricane Helene flooded the South Toe River and adjacent creeks near Micaville in Yancey County, N.C.
Robert Willett/The News & Observer/Tribune News Service via Getty Images
Robert Willett/The News & Observer/Tribune News Service via Getty Images
Carmen, her husband and three children were sound asleep in their western North Carolina home when she heard her phone ring that late September morning. It was her brother-in-law alerting the family to downed trees, powerlines and homes destroyed by historic rain and strong winds from Hurricane Helene. Carmen looked outside as she talked with her brother-in-law. The river that usually flowed contained within its banks behind her property was nearly level with her home’s foundation. “I believe that if we never received that call, I don’t know what would have happened,” she says in Spanish. “Maybe the current would have taken us.” Sponsor Message
Carmen’s two-bedroom home and everything inside was destroyed by Helene. Hurricane Helene slammed into Florida’s coast on Sept. 26 before sweeping up to Georgia, the Carolinas and parts of Tennessee, leaving a 500-mile path of destruction in its wake. More than 40 trillion gallons of water across the Southeast brought flooding and landslides in the region including in the community Carmen lives in. Millions of people lost power. In North Carolina alone, more than 100 people died. Communities throughout the region continue to rebuild in the aftermath of Helene and two other big hurricanes this fall. But for families like Carmen’s, that can be particularly difficult. The stay-at-home mother of three is undocumented, which means she doesn’t have the proper paperwork to reside in the country. She arrived from a coastal Mexican city 13 years ago after her extended family had already planted roots in North Carolina. She spoke to NPR on the condition that her last name not be used. Because of her status, she fears being separated from her children, who are American citizens. Undocumented and mixed-status families like Carmen’s and the millions like hers are some of the most vulnerable people in the country during hurricanes and other extreme weather events. Even when mandatory evacuation orders are in place, many choose to remain because they worry seeking help through the federal and state governments or disaster-aid groups could lead to deportation and families being split up. It’s a stark reality as human-caused climate change increases the intensity of hurricanes. Carmen is among the nearly estimated 2 million undocumented people who live in Florida, Georgia, North Carolina and Tennessee, according to the Pew Research Center. In western North Carolina and north Florida, undocumented peop