TThe first thing members of the Asheville, North Carolina-based Pansy Collective did after Hurricane Helene hit was contact each other, make sure everyone was OK, and help those who needed to evacuate . Once they were able to get down from the Blue Ridge Mountains, where Asheville is located, they drove more than 200 miles to Durham to gather supplies and bring them back to Asheville.

The Pansy Collective is just one of several disaster relief organizations that have mobilized across Florida and the Carolinas since Hurricane Helene made landfall on September 26th.

At least 220 people have died while at least 200 others remain missing since the storm, which grew from a Category 1 hurricane to a Category 4 hurricane in a day. Thousands of others were displaced. Helene was the strongest documented hurricane to hit the Big Bend region of Florida and the deadliest hurricane to hit the U.S. mainland since Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

While the federal government, state governments and larger nonprofits have been slower — and, some residents say, inadequate in response — it is these individuals, mostly neighbors helping neighbors, who are filling the gaps.

Even as people lost their own homes and belongings, they were still organizing, said Garrett Blaize, executive director of the Appalachian Community Fund.

“In Appalachia, we have a really strong network of both formal and informal support groups,” Blaize said. “We saw many of these groups activated immediately after the initial impacts of the storm, but also more organic and informal mutual aid: church groups, volunteer associations, neighbors. “It all happened very quickly.”

Blaize was in Johnson City, Tennessee, when the storm hit, but rushed to Wallace County, Virginia, to work with the Southern Appalachian Mountain Stewards group. From there, Blaize went to Knoxville, Tennessee, where relief efforts had already begun.

“Because of the history of the region, there is a unique tendency to look out for our neighbors,” Blaize said. “We come from an area of ​​the country that is often characterized by scarcity. I think we have a lot of embedded cultural values ​​when it comes to caring for one another that make it natural for that to be our first choice in times of crisis or emergency.”

Tai Little, an organizer with SEAC Village in Charlotte, North Carolina, said his group has been mobilizing on multiple fronts, particularly working with those affected in western North Carolina and the Mountain Island area. With donations from people who give what they can – most contributions are $2 or $5, Little said – the group is able to purchase and collect supplies such as non-perishable food, generators, menstrual products and baby items.

SEAC Village is part of a larger national network made up of other organizations, nonprofits, collectives and individuals, so their funding requests were able to reach further. They work with groups like Charlotte Food Not Bombs, Charlotte Mask Bloc, and the Reproductive Rights Coalition to get resources where they are needed most.

“We particularly believe in collective liberation, where all people are safe and cared for,” Little said. “What we see from the people who donate material goods and money is that they come from working class backgrounds and know what it is like to suffer. They know what it’s like to be influenced. They know what it’s like to know that they can’t rely on the state or the government to be there as a first responder.”

Little emphasized the importance of people interested in making donations to mutual aid funds and directly to local people.

“When you donate to larger organizations, it takes a long time for the aid to reach people,” he said. “But if you donate directly to local aid organizations, this help reaches people immediately. Because of these small donations alone, we were able to ship three truckloads of items.”

Belvin Olasov, co-director and co-founder of the Charleston Climate Coalition (CCC), a “pretty hyperlocal climate activism group,” said that the CCC had not previously participated in mutual aid work, but when they saw the destruction in western North Carolina, they were “desperate to do something.”

Helene decimated cities in Florida and flooded the Appalachian Mountains – including places once considered “climate safe havens” – in an unprecedented event. But seeing how people have come together has given CCC hope.

“My first reaction is shock, horror, and even as someone who deals with climate on a daily basis, I feel like: Oh God, it’s too early for a climate catastrophe of this kind, which is not only disruptive but also apocalyptic.” said Olasov. “And after I process that, the next step is: How can I help? How can I do something? Partly because there is an incredible need at the moment, and partly because you would feel crazy if you couldn’t do anything.”

While western North Carolina and the Appalachian Mountains have rightly received national and international coverage of the extent and “biblical” nature of the damage there, parts of Florida were also leveled by the storm, which leveled cities and destroyed communities.

Robert Lee, a volunteer with Food Not Bombs Tallahassee who regularly volunteers around the city for mutual aid, encourages people to not only donate, but to continue sharing what’s happening on social media.

“If people can’t donate, they can also share this information,” he said. “I always tell people when they say there’s nothing they can do, it doesn’t seem like much, but every time you share something, not only does it show people in your particular circle, but it just adds weight algorithm and just means it’s more likely to show up in people’s feeds.”