You Can't Prep if You're Homeless

By now, some of us know what's really going on. Climate scientists predict the planet will heat up by a minimum of 2-3C by 2050. When you factor in additional tipping points and feedback loops, things get even worse.

We're talking about the collapse of supply chains. We're talking about the collapse of agriculture and industry. There won't be one big moment where the shitola hits and fan. There's going to be lots of little ones.

Then you have the billionaires and the wannabes, who plan to capitalize on the collapse by raising prices on essentials like water and utilities. They're telling everyone to invest in energy and air conditioning. There was recently a stink online about investors trading water futures. They've been doing that for a while now.

Yes, you can invest in water.

Over the last year, I've explored where prepping fits into this landscape. Most of us would like to try and survive as long as we can. Even those of us who don't plan to hang around need a plan, even if it's an exit plan.

Unfortunately, about 60 percent of Americans now live from paycheck to paycheck. A record 8.9 million of us are now working multiple jobs. That's just the official report. On top of that, half the population in this country now has a side hustle. The side hustle doesn't pay for vacations. It pays for groceries.

It pays the water bill.

Look at the facts and beyond, and you start to wonder how many of us have the money, or even the time, to engage in all the prepping and homesteading we want. We go online. We join preppers and YouTubers on tours of their root cellars. We listen to their lifestyles and their philosophies. We judge ourselves.

How many of us could afford to buy a house with even one acre of land to grow food on? How many of us are working multiple jobs to pay for the homes we've got? How many of us have free afternoons or weekends to rig up rain catchment systems? We're doing the best we can, and it's often not enough.

We know...

I've been accused of saying we should give up because it's hard. Ironically, these accusations come from the ones who aren't working two jobs to pay for a small home in the 2020s. They come from the ones who aren't homeschooling children or doubling as their nurse and child therapist because there's no village anymore. We're still running compost heaps in our backyards. We're still growing vegetables. We're still participating in buy-nothing groups and using as little energy as possible. We'd like to do more, but the grid has a way of trapping you.

Here's the fear most of us face at night:

We're afraid of being homeless.

Some of you out there have already experienced a bout of homelessness, for various reasons. You understand how much of your agency it robs. And while we acknowledge that previous generations never had it that easy, I'm honestly hoping we can all agree that the majority of previous generations didn't face one existential crisis after another on this scale. Of course, these days, it doesn't matter what age you are or what generation a sociologist ascribes to you. If you're 35, or if you're 55, you're probably going to bed at night wondering when the day will come when you simply can't pay your mortgage or your rent. That fear grips you even harder than future famines.

You can't prep for disasters if you're homeless. You can't grow vegetables in your back yard if you don't have a back yard. You can't store food if you don't have a pantry. You can't stock gas masks if you can't afford them.

Once you lose your home, the American political system continues to kick you. They won't let you camp on the sidewalk. They won't let you camp in the woods. They won't let you sleep in the cemetery. Wherever you go, the police show up and harass you. They take your stuff and throw it all in the dumpster.

Oh, was that your work uniform? Was that the bicycle you rode to your minimum wage job? Was that the lunch box where you keep your cash?

Were those your identification documents?

Sorry, it's gone.

About 11 percent of older generations live in fear of homelessness, compared to roughly 30 percent of millennials and zoomers. Of course, that number probably hides the larger truth. In the 2020s, more of us are living in fear of homelessness than any other decade, probably since the Great Depression. It doesn't matter how old you are. Unless you're rich, you're probably having a rough time.

It's not just panic.

Surveys show that actual homelessness has gone up nearly 20 percent since 2023. So has the number of working homeless. In cities like Chicago, between 40 and 50 percent of the homeless population have jobs. Nationally, it's 25 percent.

That's terrifying.

Why am I bringing all this uncomfortable stuff up?

When we talk about prepping and collapse, many of us sooth ourselves with the notion that we can stockpile enough food, that we can grow enough vegetables, that we can fortify our homes against intruders. We tell ourselves and each other that we can build communities that are resilient enough to survive. We think we can invent our way through the apocalypse. And sure, we could.

But...

It's deeply problematic to talk about prepping and homesteading without acknowledging these larger realities. Maybe it's just me, but it sure grates on my nerves to hear someone talk about how we could all move out to the country when we face a crisis of affordability. We can't move out to the country the way someone could in the 1980s or even the early 2000s. The world has changed. None of us are going to give up, but we would sure appreciate some of these people with their 20 acres to at least nod to the reasons why nobody is doing what they're doing.

We simply can't.

This is the dark passenger in the car we haven't really addressed in the collapse community. This is what collapse really looks like. Before the famines and dust storms, before the fires and floods, this predatory economic system is going to render millions of us homeless, and it won't matter how hard we worked.

Let me end on a more affirmative note...

When we talk about survival in the end times, it's not just about a backyard homestead. It's not just about stockpiling food or learning arcane skills. If you're working two jobs to pay your bills, you're also surviving.

You're doing what I'm doing. You're going out there and gathering up research on how to prepare for disasters. You're finding all kinds of solutions. You're determining what you can afford. You can't spend all your disposable income on solar panels or dehydrated food. You've got to hold a little back. After all, we live under an administration that seems to actively want to tank the economy.

It's okay to roll your eyes when that listicle comes around telling you to stash your money in different accounts and currencies. It's okay if you throw your hands up and say, "What money???" Maybe for you, it makes more sense to develop a passive income stream than it does to buy more rain catchment barrels.

Maybe you already have the barrels.

You need money.

Maybe in a perfect world, the collapse communities we speak of would already exist. Based on what I've read, based on what I've heard and observed, you can definitely throw in with the wrong community. Where we live, the homeschooling homesteading community has a fair number of Charlie Kirk fans. We contend with a fair deal with anti-vaxxing raw milkers. We might be able to trade veggies with them, but let's face it. We can only trust them so much, and that's the hard limit we face. If we lost our home, if we couldn't find a safe apartment, would they take us in? Would they respect our Covid precautions? I highly doubt it, and that's the whole problem.

If you're homeless, you can't prep according to your own principles. If you go all in with a community, you don't get to make your own decisions.

You live by someone else's rules.

Maybe for you, and for many of us, prepping is more about keeping ahead of the job market so you can stay employed. Maybe it's (gasp) learning a little bit about AI so that it doesn't steal your job. Maybe it's ensuring access to medications for as long as possible, even through supply chain disruptions. Maybe it's about finding a longterm care solution for someone in your family, or yourself.

I've got news for you.

You're a survivor.

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