Solar Punk Magazine

As wildfire seasons grow longer, storms intensify, smoke travels farther, heat waves become more dangerous, and power outages become more common, disaster preparedness can’t stay trapped inside the bunker fantasy.

Listen to the full podcast episode

We all know the image: shelves of canned food, buckets of grain, a generator in the garage, weapons by the door, and a plan built around keeping everyone else out. Some of the basic advice is useful. Water, flashlights, batteries, radios, medication, first aid supplies, and backup power can save lives. Preparedness itself is not the problem. The problem is the story that’s been wrapped around preparedness.

The bunker fantasy tells us that disaster reveals our neighbors as threats. It teaches us to imagine survival as something that happens inside a fortified private household. It turns structural vulnerability into individual blame: were you ready or not? Could you afford the supplies or not? Did you have a car, storage space, a generator, a spare room, and somewhere to flee, or not?

But real disasters don’t work that way. In real disasters, people survive because someone checks on them. Someone shares information. Someone has a truck. Someone clears a road. Someone translates an alert. Someone brings medication. Someone opens a church basement, school gym, library, union hall, or community center. Someone knows which neighbor lives alone, who uses oxygen, who has kids, goats, dogs, cats, mobility equipment, refrigerated medication, or no car.

In other words: people survive because of relationships. That is why the first tool in a solarpunk disaster-prep kit isn’t a bunker. It’s a care map.

What is a care map?

A care map is a living picture of the people, needs, skills, tools, spaces, and relationships that already exist around you.

It isn’t a surveillance map. It’s not a secret list of everyone’s private business, or a spreadsheet where one self-appointed neighborhood captain decides who is “vulnerable” and who is “useful.”

A care map is a way to notice connection. It helps us ask: Who might need support if the power goes out?

Who has transportation? Who needs medication kept cold? Who knows the back roads? Who speaks more than one language? Who has tools, first aid training, a clean-air room, a generator, a solar charger, or a spare room? Who is likely to be missed by official alerts? Who is already doing the quiet care work that keeps people alive?

The point isn’t to divide people into helpers and helpless people. Everyone has needs. Everyone has capacities. Not the same needs. Not the same capacities. Not at the same time. But everyone belongs to the network.

A disabled neighbor might need help getting downstairs during an outage and also be the best person to design the communication plan. A teenager might not own a car but might be the fastest person

on the block at texting everyone. An elder might need help carrying water and also know which roads flood first. A renter might not control the building, but they may know every neighbor by name. You are not building a hierarchy. You are building a web.

1. Start small

Don’t begin with the whole city. Start with an area small enough to act.

That might be your block, apartment building, workplace, school community, church, union local, mutual aid group, or circle of friends. It might be five households. It might be three people in a group text.

A citywide disaster plan is too big for one person. A building is possible. A neighborhood is possible. A small network of people who know how to reach each other is possible.

Keep it small enough to finish, to update, and to actually be usable when something happens.

Listen to the full episode 2. Ask with consent

Care mapping begins with conversation, not extraction.

You don’t need to open with, “Hello, I am making a disaster map.” That might be a bit intense. You can start simply:

“A few of us are trying to make sure people are more connected before fire season, just in case. Is there anything you would want neighbors to know or help with in an emergency?”

Or: “If the power went out for a couple days, what would you be worried about?”

Or: “If we had to evacuate quickly, would you have transportation?”

The point is consent. Ask. Don’t assume. Don’t pry. Don’t collect sensitive information people do not want to share. Share only what needs to be shared, and protect what needs to stay private. A care map isn’t about control. It’s about trust.

3. Map needs

Once people are willing to participate, start with the practical questions.

Who lives alone? Who is elderly? Who has young children? Who has pets or livestock? Who might need help evacuating? Who does not drive? Who may need medical equipment powered or medication refrigerated? Who might not get alerts on a smartphone? Who might need information in another language? Who works outdoors during smoke or heat? Who is unhoused nearby? Who may be isolated, anxious, or unlikely to ask for help?

These aren’t abstract questions. They’re survival questions. An evacuation order without transportation support isn’t a plan. A power outage without backup for medical-device users isn’t just an inconvenience. A smoke alert that does not reach people in a language they understand isn’t enough. Information only becomes useful when people can act on it. A care map helps us see what official systems often miss.

4. Map capacities

Next, map what people can offer.

Who has a vehicle? Who has a trailer? Who has tools? Who has a chainsaw? Who has first aid training? Who knows the back roads? Who has a generator, battery pack, solar charger, or extra power strip? Who can cook for a crowd? Who can watch kids? Who can help with animals? Who speaks more than one language? Who has organizing skills? Who knows local officials, librarians, school staff, nurses, firefighters, or community groups? Who has a spare room? Who has a cool room? Who has a clean-air room?

This is where mutual aid differs from charity. Charity says: I have something, so I’ll give it to you. Mutual aid says: Our survival is connected, so we organize together to meet needs that systems are failing to meet.

Everyone has something to contribute. A phone call. A ride. A porch. A language. A memory. A spare outlet. A list of names. A cooler. A relationship. A skill. A willingness to check on someone else.

5. Build a contact tree

After you begin mapping needs and capacities, create a contact tree in three layers.

The first layer is digital: a group text, Signal group, WhatsApp chat, email list, Discord, Facebook group, or whatever people actually use.

The second layer is phone: a basic call list for people who do not use apps, do not check them, or may miss alerts.

The third layer is analog: door-knocking, printed flyers, a porch sign, a bulletin board, a known meeting place, or a list taped inside a cabinet where people can find it when the internet is down.

The analog layer matters more than we often think. When the electricity fails and the signal dies, paper still works. Feet still work. A knock on the door still works. A text from the county may be ignored. A knock from a neighbor you know may save a life.

6. Pick one hazard and one project

Do not try to solve every possible disaster at once. That is how people freeze.

Pick one likely local hazard. If you live in the West, maybe it is wildfire smoke. If you live near the coast, maybe it is hurricanes or flooding. If you live in a city, maybe it is extreme heat. If you live rurally, it might be blocked roads, well pumps, livestock, and power outages.

Then choose one practical project. A smoke plan. An evacuation ride list. A list of who needs power for medical devices. A shared shelf of water. A clean-air room.

A neighborhood check-in system for heat waves. A pet evacuation list. A printed resource sheet. A small gas fund. A box of N95 masks. A first aid kit. A charging station. Make it small enough to finish.

Solarpunk is not only the beautiful future city covered in vines and solar panels. It is also the folding table with bottled water, masks, phone numbers, and a handwritten sign that says: “Check in here if you need help.”

7. Practice it

A plan that has never been tested is mostly a wish.

Test the phone tree. Walk the evacuation route. Assemble the box-fan filter before the smoke arrives. Print the contact list. Ask who did not get the message. Find out whether the proposed meeting place is actually accessible. See whether the person who said they could help with rides is home during the day. Update the plan.

Preparedness is not a one-time purchase. It is a living practice.

This week, talk to three people. Ask them three questions:

What would you worry about most in a fire, flood, heat wave, outage, or evacuation?What would you need help with?
What could you offer someone else?

Write it down. Share what needs to be shared. Protect what needs to stay private. Start small. Keep going.

Listen to the full episode

We just released the schedule and registration links for the School of Solarpunk Studies Summer Workshop Series (S5). This summer’s workshop curriculum includes:

Worldbuilding Regenerative Cities
Saturday, July 18 from 11 AM – 1PM PST

Crafting Solarpunk Poetry
Saturday, July 25 from 11 AM – 1PM PST

Climate as Character
Saturday, August 1 from 11 AM – 1PM PST

Writing Hope Without Losing Conflict
Saturday, August 8 from 11 AM – 1PM PST

Registration for each workshop is $40, but no one will be turned away for lack of funds.

More Info + Registration

We’re excited to announce that Demand Utopia: A Solarpunk Podcast has hit 30k downloads! We’ve released 9 episodes over the last few weeks. Recent episode topics include:

•why hopeful stories are still so hard to write
•whether solarpunk has become too aesthetic
•the energy grid as a care system
•the costs of AI
•the energy transitions mining problem
•the rights of nature movement
•the UN’s recent vote on climate action

Our 10th episode of the year drops tomorrow, and features our host reading two short stories from Solarpunk Magazine Issue #27, “Between Mortar and Magic” by Alex Vossler, and “What the Sea Remembers” by Dennis Mombauer.

You can listen to Demand Utopia on our website’s podcast page, or wherever you get podcasts!

Listen Now

Our 5th anniversary year continued this month with the release of Issue #27 on May 12. Issue #27 includes:

Cover Art
“In My Hands” by Paula Hammond

Short Stories
“Radio Free Luna, Signing Off” by Sylvie Althoff
“Between Mortar and Magic” by Alex Vossler
“What the Sea Remembers” by Dennis Mombauer

Poetry
“Pulsar, Phlox” by Devan Barlow
“The Prayer Shrub” by Zoleikha Baloch

Essay
“Occupation of Palestine” by Aya Al-Hattab

Book Review
“Repair is Not a Gadget: A Review of The Wildcraft Drones by T.K. Rex” by Justine Norton-Kertson

Get Issue 27