Wildfires and the Utility: A Recurring Climate Equity Nightmare in the West

Confusion Rather than Clarity

A series of delays in the outage process left many residents in a state of confusion and panic. Those notified via texts or emails from PG&E (if they’d opted-in and had service to get such communications) received scant information. Lim noted that text message alerts suggested only a “potential impact,” and that even the warning was distributed disproportionately towards people who owned their homes, as those notified had to have been in PG&E’s customer database. 

“But this doesn’t always represent a household,” Lim explained, noting that landlords or building managers may be the de facto contact for renters, but may not always communicate an outage threat to their tenants. Notifications about outages also overlapped with evacuation notices, which Lim says created “anxiety and hysteria.” Despite having minimal information, residents had to make quick decisions that present differently for different socioeconomic and cultural backgrounds, including child care considerations, food purchasing and preparation, short and long distance travel, and life-or-death medical decisions.

Disproportionate Outage Impacts

These quick decisions in the midst of chaos often hit regional Tribal communities the hardest. “Native communities are disproportionately impacted by many different health issues and face deep historical trauma and mental health concerns, so this type of situation is very triggering,” Lim said. 

And still, with the innate will to survive, these communities make a way when one doesn’t always seem clear and figure out how to cope in the midst of tragedy. Lim described how the mandatory evacuations forced her family members to relocate. At the height of the chaotic period, she had six dogs, four cats, two children, an infant, and her parents in her home. Her father requires dialysis three times a week; yet all centers in the area were closed because of the loss of power, and he was forced to go five days without treatment. His chronic condition and the inability to receive treatment was a major concern for Lim and her family during the weeklong outage and blazing fires. As detrimental as going a week without necessary medical treatment is, he might be considered lucky to have escaped this dangerous situation relatively unscathed—power outages have major impacts on vulnerable populations, including the elderly and those with disabilities, who can struggle to reach facilities with electricity.

While hospitals are ready with backup generators for outages, these facilities are not equally accessible to all who need electricity in an emergency. Even if people reliant on electrically-powered medical care equipment and services are able to reach a hospital, cost remains a barrier. With nearly one in three American Indian and Alasakan Natives uninsured, a hospital visit, even in times of state-wide catastrophe, comes at a high price for many elderly American Indians.¹ 

Sophie’s Choice: Hunker down, or strategic retreat

Their alternatives? Take their chances with inoperable electric wheelchairs, breathing machines, oxygen, suction and home dialysis equipment, perishing essential food and medication due to lack of refrigeration; or, moving to an area with power, either temporarily or permanently.

Neither solution is simple. For some, prepping for survival in place, or evacuation is relatively easy, but it requires financial resources that to-this-day are denied to marginalized communities—many of communities of color and low-income people—by way of systemic racism and ongoing disenfranchisement. And for Native communities, evacuation is much easier said than done. “This is Native land, my ancestral territory. Cultural values mandate that we’re here and safeguarding our land and cultural resources; so, packing up and moving isn’t an option,” said Lim.