The flames caught Erica Solove off guard.
In the heart of winter in Colorado, blizzards should have been the concern—not a fire. Yet, on December 30, 2021, the Marshall Fire descended upon Boulder County, taking two lives and destroying over a thousand homes, including Erica’s. She, along with her husband, two young children, and their dog, dashed away with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Their wallets, important documents, and cherished belongings turned to ash.
The following day it snowed. They moved between hotels until settling into a rental in South Boulder, waiting for their home to be rebuilt. Miraculously, the lengthy construction only took a year and a half.
That August, wildfires ravaged Maui, resulting in over 100 casualties and more than 2,200 homes lost, almost wiping out the town of Lahaina. Seeing the devastation rattled Erica. “Watching the footage hit home,” she admitted. “We learned so much after our fire, and I saw the same mistakes being made in Maui.” Inspired, she created a Facebook group connecting survivors from Lahaina and Boulder. Her goal was to share knowledge about insurance, rebuilding, and other practical issues.
Research on disaster survivors-turned-environmental advocates is scarce, yet interviews reveal many who have lost homes or loved ones become climate activists to prevent future tragedies. Erica’s experience isn’t unique. As climate change fuels more extreme events, an increasing number of disaster survivors are joining forces across the U.S. to advocate for climate action.
In 2024, the U.S. witnessed 108 major disaster declarations affecting around 137 million people—approximately 41% of the population, according to data from the International Institute for Environment and Development. However, the Trump administration has been criticized for reducing support for disaster relief, leaving survivors feeling abandoned during crucial moments.
The Facebook group Erica started gained about 40 members, a small circle but a space for shared knowledge. Then, she was approached by Extreme Weather Survivors, a new nonprofit focused on supporting disaster victims and fighting climate change.
Today, Erica leads a vibrant community of around 1,000 disaster survivors and experts. They connect in real-time on Slack, providing resources and support. This effort kicked off after the Los Angeles wildfires in 2023.
Survivors historically mobilize to protect their communities after disasters, but often find their voices unheard by officials. In Western North Carolina, many roads remain damaged months after the Hurricane Helene, causing distrust among residents towards FEMA.
In the aftermath of the Marshall Fire, many victims protested new building regulations aimed at reducing carbon emissions, fearing these changes would delay their recovery. Similarly, insurance payouts often come after extended periods of anxiety.
For several who have joined organizations like Extreme Weather Survivors, the aim is to blend personal storytelling with climate activism. Co-founder Chris Kocher was inspired to create this organization after experiencing Hurricane Ida in 2021, which brought catastrophic flooding to New York City. He has since directed his efforts towards providing support and advocating for robust climate policies.
Extreme Weather Survivors offers resources in both English and Spanish, creating a supportive network for survivors and connecting them with mental health professionals. “They are heartbreakingly, pioneers,” Kocher said of the organization’s members. “They understand that climate change is here and worsening.”
This group has also engaged in legislative advocacy, working alongside flood victims in Vermont to support the Climate Superfund Act. This crucial law compels fossil fuel companies to cover damages caused by climate change within the state.
With resilient efforts from survivors, grassroots movements are gaining traction. Many members are stepping into local political arenas, influencing change where they live. Alicia Cooperman, a political scientist at George Washington University, emphasizes the importance of this local activism. It can lead to broader change, impacting communities beyond their own.
But obstacles remain. Funding for climate resilience often faces federal hurdles, and recent cuts threaten support for those most vulnerable to climate impacts. Activists like Amy Dishion, who lost her husband to a heatstroke, work tirelessly to humanize these statistics, bringing attention to the often-ignored perils of extreme heat. Her story exemplifies the urgent call for action against climate change.
The growing network of survivors is powerful. Each story shared adds weight to the collective understanding that climate change is not an abstract issue but a real struggle impacting lives. These advocates hope their experiences will resonate with policymakers, leading to lasting changes.