Patricia says she can no longer make ends meet. Things started going downhill after the hurricane. Her basement flooded, they were without power for several days, lost food, and spent all their savings on repairs. “The generator, things that got soaked—that’s where all our money went,” says the 62-year-old Mexican woman as she selects free food from a community program.
Her case is far from unique. In Western North Carolina, many Latino families face an unequal recovery—especially those who are undocumented and/or live in rural areas. They don’t qualify for federal aid and must rely on informal community networks to survive.
For example, had Patricia been able to apply to the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), the cost of the generator she needed could have been reimbursed.
“They haven’t helped us at all. We’ve had no support except from these groups. Thank God they’re giving out food. But really, the government has completely abandoned us,” she says.
Patricia reduced her hours at a fast-food restaurant in Hendersonville due to health issues—now she works only two days a week. Her husband also works, but the money isn’t enough. With the free food and hygiene products she receives, she’s able to cover basic utilities like electricity and water.
“It’s really hard right now. That’s why I come to get food, to help us get by. My husband works, but it’s not enough,” she says. “Nowadays, $100 only gets you three things at the store. Everything is expensive—meat, chicken, prices in general. And for us immigrants, it’s even harder. We’re more abandoned, less protected by the government. On top of that, we have to deal with racism and all that.”
Community Markets: A Lifeline in Difficult Times
In the Emma neighborhood of Asheville, El Mercadito—where Patricia goes—opens three times a week. No ID is required; people just note how many they’re picking up food for.
Created after Hurricane Helene, the market has become an essential resource. According to its organizers, more than 100 families—about 1,000 people—visit each week.
“For a family of four, it’s not just about food anymore—it’s rent, utilities,” said Edna, who handles donations.
“A family needs about $3,000 a month, but many earn less than that. Prices are sky-high, rent is through the roof, and after the hurricane, power bills got even worse. It’s a low-income economy with high prices, job shortages, and fear due to everything our community is facing.”
That fear also affects shopping habits. “Even though we haven’t confirmed ICE activity here, the fear is there. And Walmart or Target are so expensive. You go for basics and come out feeling like you’ve been robbed,” said Alan Ramírez, director of Casa de Apoyo Mutuo.
Similar markets have sprung up across the state’s western region, organized by community groups formed or strengthened after the disaster. In Swannanoa, Bounty & Soul runs regular fresh food distributions. In Marion, Centro Unido Latinoamericano maintains an active community market.
In Spruce Pine, Centro Latino organizes weekly deliveries in a particularly tough context: the area’s only supermarket has been closed since the hurricane.
In Hendersonville, Caja Solidaria distributes goods to rural families and keeps a market open, while Tierra Fértil—a farmworkers’ cooperative—continues producing food and supporting the local community.
All this is happening while U.S. retail sales dropped 0.9% in May, according to the Department of Commerce. Grocery store sales fell by 0.7%, with declines also reported in home, appliance, and garden stores.
But food insecurity in the state’s west didn’t start with the hurricane. In 2021, one in five adults in the mountains reported limited access to food, according to WNC Health Network. The state average was 11%.
Today, the situation is worse. According to UnidosUS, over 50% of Latinos say they’re worse off than a year ago, and most believe things will get even worse in the coming year. Four of their top five concerns are economic, said Clarissa Martínez, head of the organization’s Latino vote initiative, to Enlace Latino NC.
El Mercadito, en el barrio Emma, se convirtió en un punto clave de acceso a alimentos y productos básicos para cientos de familias que, tras el huracán, enfrentan precios elevados, falta de empleo y barreras para acceder a ayuda institucional. 
El Mercadito, en el barrio Emma, se convirtió en un punto clave de acceso a alimentos y productos básicos para cientos de familias que, tras el huracán, enfrentan precios elevados, falta de empleo y barreras para acceder a ayuda institucional. 
El Mercadito, en el barrio Emma, se convirtió en un punto clave de acceso a alimentos y productos básicos para cientos de familias que, tras el huracán, enfrentan precios elevados, falta de empleo y barreras para acceder a ayuda institucional. 
El Mercadito, in the Emma neighborhood, has become a key access point for food and basic goods for hundreds of families who, after the hurricane, face high prices, lack of employment, and barriers to accessing institutional aid.
Structural Vulnerability
A recent study from Hispanic Access Foundation and Headwaters Economics shows Latinos in the U.S. face a disproportionately high flood risk. Some 44% live in high-risk counties, compared to 35% of non-Latinos. Contributing factors include lack of insurance, language barriers, poverty, and housing instability.
This reality was evident in Western North Carolina after Hurricane Helene. In Swannanoa, a Buncombe County community, many Latino families lost their homes when the river overflowed and destroyed mobile home parks.
The report notes that 31% of Latinos live in counties with high flood risk and low insurance coverage. It also warns that many of these communities have been historically underserved and lack adequate response infrastructure.
In rural parts of the state, it’s common for Latino families to live in mobile homes near rivers or in areas without clear evacuation routes. These conditions—combined with economic and language barriers—limit their ability to recover after disasters.
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Latinos in Western North Carolina
According to the state Office of State Budget and Management (OSBM), more than 85,000 Latinos live in the mountainous region of North Carolina—known as WNC. The highest concentration is in Buncombe County, with over 22,000 people, and significant percentages in Henderson, where Latinos make up more than 12% of the population.
However, the actual number may be even higher. Many undocumented residents aren’t included in official records, and there’s still distrust of census efforts—especially in rural areas hit by Hurricane Helene.
The region already faced major challenges before the disaster.
According to the state Department of Commerce, 88% of western counties are classified as rural. Geographic spread makes access to public services, aid programs, or community networks more difficult.
Between 2014 and 2018, the median household income in the region was $43,532—nearly $9,000 below the state average.
In this context, many Latino families live isolated, with limited mobility and little access to basic resources. Language, immigration status, and lack of transportation make it even harder to connect with organizations that could help.
Fear is also a factor. In a state where more restrictive immigration laws are being debated, many are afraid of being detained or reported to federal authorities, discouraging them from seeking help—even when they desperately need it.
The total estimated cost of recovery after Hurricane Helene in North Carolina exceeds $60 billion.
However, by March 2025, only about $6 billion—less than 10% of the need—had been allocated, and much of that funding doesn’t reach Latino communities, especially undocumented families.
Amid this landscape of scarcity, institutional exclusion, and immigration fear, Patricia and many other families continue to struggle to move forward.
PODCAST
Después de la tormenta
Hace un año, el huracán Helene golpeó al oeste de Carolina del Norte. La comunidad latina respondió con algo más fuerte que la tormenta: solidaridad.
🎧 En este episodio, conoce cómo las organizaciones latinas transformaron la crisis en resiliencia.
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