In today’s America—where political division, economic volatility, and deep-seated race relations define the national atmosphere—a new community is leading a quietly revolutionary trend. Unlike the camo-clad, White male preppers typically depicted in popular imagination, thousands are turning to a different source for survival wisdom: Black women documenting their paths to self-reliance and resilience on platforms like TikTok and Instagram. As anxieties spike over supply chains, public safety, and the potential fallout from a deeply polarized 2024 presidential election, these women are expanding the scope and audience of America’s preparedness movement.

From Fringe to Mainstream: The Rise of Modern Prepping

In the past decade, the concept of “prepping”—proactively getting ready for disasters both natural and man-made—has gone mainstream. According to a Pew Research Center survey conducted in early 2025, nearly 27% of U.S. adults now consider themselves at least “casual preppers,” up from just 14% prior to the COVID-19 pandemic. The movement’s visible faces and demographics are shifting, mirroring the anxieties of a broader swath of Americans, including women and communities of color.

Zani Sunshine, a Black woman living off-grid in rural New Mexico, epitomizes this shift. Her TikTok account—originally a digital diary—now boasts more than 400,000 followers, and her most-watched preparedness video has been viewed over 1.6 million times. In a calm, relatable tone, she offers practical advice: stock up on shelf-stable foods, secure water supplies, maintain a first aid kit and trauma supplies, train with firearms, and prepare “go-bags” with essentials for each family member. Her audience skews heavily toward Black women, many newly anxious about their families’ futures in a country fraught with uncertainties.

Political Turbulence Sparks New Interest

The spike in interest isn’t accidental. The contested 2024 presidential election, the reelection of Donald Trump, and the ripple effects of international tariffs and court rulings have left many Americans fearing shortages—from groceries and medicine to even staple household goods. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, as of June 2025, inflation has kept prices of basic necessities stubbornly high, while sporadic supply chain disruptions continue to affect the availability of everyday items.

On Reddit’s r/preppers and other online forums, novices share stories of cleaning out shelves at big-box stores. But for Sunshine, this urgency is nothing new—she began prepping in earnest in 2016, spurred by increasing social tension and institutional mistrust. “I just had this sense that something was coming. Prepping became my way to reclaim some control,” she says.

A Broader, More Inclusive Movement Emerges

Until recently, prepping was largely associated with White men—often with a military or paramilitary aesthetic. Social media, however, has facilitated a quiet revolution. Influencers like Sunshine and Sharon Ross—a preparedness consultant known as The Afrovivalist—bring new perspectives and experiences. Their content subverts stereotypes by blending humor, accessibility, and lived wisdom. Instead of projecting fear and paranoia, they exude calm and empowerment.

The hashtag #preparednotscared encapsulates this ethos. “Prepping isn’t about doom and gloom—it’s about hope, security, and community,” explains Ross, who began stockpiling essentials after witnessing Hurricane Katrina’s devastation. She now owns a 66-acre homestead in rural Washington, building cabins, cultivating crops, and teaching her grandchildren essential skills. Her consulting business attracts clients of all backgrounds, reflecting a sharp uptick in demand for practical, stress-relieving strategies in uncertain times.

“My demographic has changed in the last two years. I get questions from Asian, Latino, and White families—everyone’s feeling the pressure,” Ross says. “But for Black women especially, this is about more than just supplies. It’s about autonomy and protection in a world that often feels unwelcoming.”

The Politics of Safety and Empowerment

For many women of color, particularly Black women, prepping isn’t just about disaster response. It’s intertwined with historical trauma, ongoing racism, and a desire for self-determination. The spike in racist rhetoric and hate crimes since 2023, as documented by the Southern Poverty Law Center, is another catalyst for seeking security through preparedness.

Ross recounts her decision to undergo firearms training after a surge in racism following the 2016 election. Sunshine describes an uptick in racist harassment on her channels following Trump’s reelection. “People feel emboldened. The climate has absolutely changed, and it’s exactly why more Black women come to me—they want practical tools, but they also want validation and hope.”

This message resonates widely. Social media followers routinely credit Sunshine and Ross with inspiring them to establish food storage systems, invest in land, or simply feel less anxious about the chaos beyond their doors.

Shifting Cultural Landscape: Redefining Preparedness

The transformation of prepping from an insular, male-dominated subculture to a diverse, inclusive movement reflects broader cultural and political trends. In a world where climate change and political instability fuel new threats, self-sufficiency is becoming a mainstream ideal. The U.S. Census Bureau’s 2025 data shows a spike in homesteading, small farm ownership, and home gardening, especially among women and people of color.

While older prepping media often leaned into fearmongering, today’s Black women influencers foreground capability and community. Their approach demystifies preparedness, positioning it as a form of self-care and mutual aid, not isolation. “If you’re ready, you don’t have to be afraid. You can weather whatever storm comes your way,” Sunshine says, summing up her philosophy. “Prepping is for everyone, and it’s never too late to start.”

Looking Forward

As America heads deeper into a period of social and political uncertainty, the advice and leadership of these unconventional preppers are proving invaluable. Their voices are not just making the preparedness movement more accessible; they are redefining what it means to be safe, prepared, and empowered—regardless of background.

For many, their message is clear: Community is the foundation of resilience, and readiness should not be a source of fear, but of hope and empowerment.