Why Community is Essential

Disasters don’t affect everyone equally.

Whether it’s a flood, wildfire, earthquake, or political unrest, emergencies often magnify the cracks in our social systems. Marginalized groups—especially women, LGBTQ+ individuals, people of color, and disabled folks—are statistically more vulnerable during crises. Not because they’re less resilient, but because they’re often excluded from mainstream emergency planning and response systems.

That’s why community—intentional, inclusive, and mutual—isn’t just a nice-to-have when it comes to preparedness. For women and queer folks, community is often the first and best line of defense.

The Problem with Mainstream “Prepping”

Let’s be honest: mainstream prepping culture can feel unwelcoming. It’s frequently dominated by militarized, hyper-masculine narratives focused on isolation, self-defense, and stockpiling. These spaces rarely reflect the realities or needs of those whose safety concerns go beyond natural hazards—people who also face gender-based violence, housing insecurity, discrimination, and healthcare barriers.

For women and LGBTQ+ individuals, the question often isn’t just “Do I have enough food and water?” It’s also:

• Will I be safe in a public shelter?

• Will I be misgendered or discriminated against?

• Will my chosen family be able to stay together?

• Will I have access to gender-affirming care or menstrual hygiene products?

• Can I evacuate if I’m a caregiver, disabled, or undocumented?

These are not fringe questions. They are central—and too often ignored.

🤝 Why Community is the Real Survival Strategy

Research consistently shows that people with strong social connections are more likely to survive and recover from disasters. After the 1995 heatwave in Chicago, for instance, neighborhoods with strong social ties had dramatically lower death rates—even when controlling for income and access to services. Why? Because people checked on each other. Because someone noticed when a neighbor’s lights didn’t turn on. Because they shared information and resources.

For women and LGBTQ+ folks, strong communities are more than comforting—they are protective. In the absence of adequate institutional support, we rely on one another. We cook for each other. We create mutual aid pods. We share extra meds or pet care or rides out of town. We form informal safety networks when official shelters don’t feel safe.

Community doesn’t just fill the gaps in disaster response—it actively resists the systems that create those gaps in the first place.

🌈 What Community Preparedness Looks Like

Building a resilient, inclusive, feminist approach to disaster preparedness doesn’t mean you need to start a nonprofit or host massive events (unless you want to!). It can start small and build over time. Here’s what it might look like:

1. Know Your People

Start by mapping your networks. Who do you trust? Who would you check on in a crisis—and who would check on you? Your “emergency people” don’t have to be family. They might be friends, neighbors, or members of a local LGBTQ+ group.

Create a small group chat or check-in system. Consider roles: who has a car? Medical training? Pet-sitting capacity? Think of it like an affinity group for emergencies.

2. Talk About the What-Ifs

It’s not always fun, but it’s empowering. Talking through scenarios—where would we meet if cell service is down? Who needs what meds? Who has trauma triggers during certain types of crises?—can build real resilience. It also de-stigmatizes being prepared without spiraling into fear.

Tip: Make it cozy. Host a “go-bag brunch” or zine night to discuss preparedness while building community.

3. Center Accessibility & Inclusion

Ask: who might be left out of our plans? Think about disability access, language needs, immigration status, or people without stable housing. Queer and trans inclusion should be built-in, not added later. This means using correct pronouns, recognizing chosen family, and advocating for gender-inclusive spaces.

If you’re organizing something community-wide, consider creating guides or materials tailored to your community’s needs—especially if mainstream guides don’t speak to you.

4. Practice Mutual Aid

Mutual aid isn’t charity—it’s solidarity. And it’s not only for emergencies. From sharing food to covering someone’s rent to pooling menstrual products, mutual aid networks are the heart of long-term community preparedness. They show us how to take care of each other with dignity and reciprocity.

Many LGBTQ+ communities already practice mutual aid informally—disaster preparedness is just one more layer.

⚡ Why It Matters More Than Ever

Climate change, political instability, and economic uncertainty mean that disasters—big and small—are becoming more frequent. And while that might feel overwhelming, it’s also a call to return to what has always helped people survive: each other.

Preparedness rooted in community says: “I’m not just trying to survive alone in a bunker—I’m building a future where we all make it through, together.

Emergency preparedness should never feel exclusive, fear-based, or performative. For women and LGBTQ+ people, it must be radically inclusive, trauma-informed, and community-centered. It must recognize that resilience isn’t just about gear or escape plans—it’s about relationships, trust, and collective care.

So check in with your people. Make a plan. Share what you have. Start where you are. Because real preparedness doesn’t start with a siren—it starts with connection.