Friday, September 27th. The wind is howling outside, whistling through the gaps of windowsills and accompanied by an onslaught of rain that almost sounds like hail. The oak tree outside has snapped in half – and it doesn’t fall onto your house, it flies headfirst through the front door. There’s water flooding at your waist. Your car is gone. The power is out. Your phone doesn’t work. As the water continues to rise, there is nowhere to go but to your roof and watch the storm continue.

This is not a work of fiction. All of these stories were a reality for my friends, family, and community members in my hometown of Asheville, North Carolina, during Hurricane Helene. The storm led to 104 reported deaths in Western North Carolina, though local houseless service providers believe the number is much higher.[1] For weeks, and sometimes months, communities were left without critical services like electricity, water, sewage, telecommunications, and health care facilities.[2] Thousands of homes were either damaged or destroyed, leaving countless citizens displaced.[3] Endless miles of roads, highways, and bridges were destroyed which left many communities completely cut off.[4] In a State Executive Summary following Helene, the estimated damages and needs of North Carolina were reported as $59.6 billion.[5]

Not unexpectedly, the areas most affected by Helene’s flooding were those located in major river flood zones. In the heart of Asheville lies the French Broad River, and on the shores of that river is the cultural and artistic hub of the city: the River Arts District (“RAD”).[6] RAD is distinguished by its long stretch of art studios, galleries, workshops, and a live music scene.[7] However, it is essential to consider and examine RAD’s racist and colonizer past. 

The history of RAD goes far back before its more modern ‘artistic’ scene, though Asheville has been reluctant to acknowledge that fact. In the late seventeenth century, white settlers displaced a Cherokee community living beside the French Broad River and instead established farms and industrial plants using enslaved persons.[8] However, by the 1970s, a thriving Black community made up of numerous businesses, churches, and homes had developed in the area.[9] 

Asheville’s response to this community was an urban renewal project (better understood as an urban removal project) which forcibly closed and demolished over a thousand buildings and houses directly in the area.[10] Over half of Asheville’s Black residents were evicted in this time, forced to either relocate across Asheville to other ‘unfavorable’ locations or leave the city entirely.[11]

Following this history of forcible displacement of communities of color, the land right on the river’s bank was taken up by local artists–most of whom are white–and the River Arts District came about.[12] However, despite the efforts of Asheville’s urban renewal project, many Black community members have continued to call the area home. Indeed, just directly behind RAD is one of Asheville’s historic and current Black neighborhoods: the Southside Neighborhood.[13] Black residents have continued to invest in rebuilding the community there, which includes the opening of a Community Center, upkeeping historic homes, and a Community Farm.[14]

RAD and the Southside Neighborhood thus remain historical and cultural landmarks of Asheville. But hurricanes, floods, and worsening climate change do not pay much heed to those facts. Rebuilding in a flood zone is well-documented to lead to worse outcomes for a variety of reasons. 

For starters, floods typically alter the landscape and make subsequent floods more devasting than before (examples include soil erosion, loss of vegetation and root systems, and widening river banks).[15] Insurance rates soar for homeowners as the companies view the area as a liability.[16] Worsening climate change has led to what was once a 100-year flood to now occur as often as every three years.[17]

The solution isn’t as simple as abandoning the area or rebuilding with unrealistic hopes that it won’t flood again. Two undeniable truths coexist. People live in flood zones and have built their communities there despite the high risks. These areas no longer provide a safe place to live, and as more people remain, future flood damage worsens.

This is not a singular issue experienced by Asheville. In fact, this phenomenon has been seen time and time again. Across the nation, low-income communities and people of color live disproportionally in flood zones due to a history of urban renewal efforts and intentionally placed ‘affordable’ housing effectively forcing marginalized groups into these high-risk areas.[18] Indeed, some of the most affordable housing is often located in the most dangerous parts of town – by water.[19] 

However, in the aftermath of a horrific flood, the legal policy and broader social question must be asked: when home and culture exist in a flood zone, is staying worth the risk? In examining the recovery of flood zone areas, perhaps the most pressing dilemma is asking ‘how do we build back better?’, and whether building back better means not building back at all. 

In the past, states and cities have taken three general approaches in an attempt to ‘solve’ this issue. Eminent domain, voluntary acquisition, and allowing residents to rebuild or developers to build in their place. 

The Fifth Amendment grants the federal government eminent domain powers, allowing it to take private property for valid public uses or purposes, as long as it provides just compensation.[20] The Fourteenth Amendment extends this power to the states.[21] Furthermore, many states have an eminent domain clause written into their individual state constitutions.[22] Relocating residents of a flood zone, clearing the debris of destroyed homes, and constructing flood-resistant infrastructure is a historically well-accepted ‘public use’ of the Fifth Amendment Takings Clause.[23] Thus, states rarely face legal obstacles when using eminent domain powers after a flood, even if residents object.

Voluntary acquisition takes a less forceful approach. Unlike eminent domain, voluntary acquisition ensures that no resident is legally required to sell their property or have it taken.[24] Instead, typically through the Federal Emergency Management Agency (“FEMA”) Hazard Mitigation Assistance Program funding, local officials offer a buyout deal to encourage residents to willingly take the offered money and move off the flood zone.[25]

Finally, state and local officials may reject using their eminent domain powers or voluntary acquisition to remove communities from flood zones. Instead, they leave it up to chance and allow these communities to essentially build back exactly where they were – or sell whatever land that has been abandoned to real estate developers. 

Eminent domain and voluntary acquisition have their benefits and detriments. Moving residents and businesses away from flood zones allows for the implementation of green and built infrastructure in their place. Green infrastructure refers to restoring flood zones to their natural state, allowing for natural barriers to mitigate storm surges. Built infrastructure includes levees, dams, and other manufactured barriers protecting the rest of the city from flooding. Furthermore, with people off the flood zones, there is less dire need for immediate evacuation when a hurricane hits, and fewer resources need to be used to rebuild nearly destroyed buildings.

Another benefit is that state and local governments can easily acquire funding for these flood mitigation projects. Through the Stafford Act, FEMA directs the Hazard Mitigation Assistance Program which covers 75% of the cost of any approved mitigation project.[26] These projects can include eminent domain and voluntary acquisition ‘buy-outs’, along with creating green and built infrastructure.[27] 

The detriments to eminent domain and voluntary acquisition center around fundamental injustice. These options alone fail to acknowledge or address the root issues of racism and socioeconomics. As mentioned before, flood zones are disproportionally populated by communities of color and low-income communities – many of whom were pushed into these high-risk areas in the first place.

Eminent domain and voluntary acquisition can thus function as another way to force or pressure communities to leave their homes, particularly when a city does not provide any alternatives for affordable housing. Although the reasoning may come from a place of sustainability, eminent domain and voluntary acquisition can easily be used as another method of the ‘urban renewal projects’ which displaced communities that white and wealthy state and local officials found unfavorable.

But again, allowing businesses and homes to remain in flood zones leaves these communities in areas that will continually degrade over time and lead to worse and worse flooding. So, how should cities and states balance these conflicting values? Unfortunately, there is no absolute ‘solution’, but there are practices that can ensure collaboration, informed decision-making, disaster mitigation, and honoring community autonomy.

Decision-making regarding moving communities out of flood zones should necessarily include community leaders and members in the process. These communities need and deserve to have their voices heard and autonomy respected. Local and state officials should take the time to create accessible, culturally aware resources and educational programs to empower communities to make informed decisions on whether to stay or leave. Residents and business owners should understand their rights, the legal authority and powers of local and state governments, the environmental consequences of staying or leaving, and how they will be supported.

Eminent domain and voluntary acquisition should never be used on their own, and eminent domain especially should be used only as a last resort. To address historical injustices, local and state governments need to ensure these communities have livable alternatives. There needs to be an emphasis on creating affordable housing away from flood zones which are also being invested into. Alternative living spaces should have quality schools for children, health care facilities, community centers, safe housing, maintained infrastructure, and other public service facilities that wealthier neighborhoods have. 

Empowering communities in flood zones to make informed decisions on how to build back better and providing actual pathways to living and thriving outside of those flood zones is paramount. While there is no perfect solution, cities need to be proactive and find ways to incentivize and support communities away from flood zones, while also not forcing them away with nowhere else to go.

In the aftermath of Hurricane Helene, Asheville stands at a crossroads which many cities have faced in the past and will in the future. How do you rebuild? How do you recover? And how do you stop this from happening again?

The future of RAD remains unclear, and many Asheville residents are debating even months after the storm on whether the area should be rebuilt or moved elsewhere.[28] Asheville officials need to act now in considering all communities in flood zones, and how to protect them while also mitigating future flood damage. 

Flooding is inevitable, and climate change brings the threat of flooding in areas we may never have expected. But flood waters will come, and the time to act is now.