These preppers have ‘go bags,' guns and a fear of global disaster. They're also left-wing

CNN

18-06-2025

The day after President Donald Trump was elected in 2016, Eric Shonkwiler looked at his hiking bag to figure out what supplies he had. 'I began to look at that as a resource for escape, should that need to happen,' he said.
He didn't have the terminology for it at the time, but this backpack was his 'bug-out bag' — essential supplies for short-term survival. It marked the start of his journey into prepping. In his Ohio home, which he shares with his wife and a Pomeranian dog, Rosemary, he now has a six-month supply of food and water, a couple of firearms and a brood of chickens. 'Resources to bridge the gap across a disaster,' he said.
Margaret Killjoy's entry point was a bleak warning in 2016 from a scientist friend, who told her climate change was pushing the global food system closer than ever to collapse. Killjoy started collecting food, water and generators. She bought a gun and learned how to use it. She started a prepping podcast, Live Like the World is Dying, and grew a community.
Prepping has long been dominated by those on the political right. The classic stereotype, albeit not always accurate, is of the lone wolf with a basement full of Spam, a wall full of guns, and a mind full of conspiracy theories.
Shonkwiler and Killjoy belong to a much smaller part of the subculture: They are left-wing preppers. This group is also preparing for a doom-filled future, and many also have guns, but they say their prepping emphasizes community and mutual aid over bunkers and isolationism.
In an era of barreling crises — from wars to climate change — some say prepping is becoming increasingly appealing to those on the left.
Bees buzz around a hive in Inshirah Overton's garden in New Jersey.
The roots of modern-day prepping in the United States go back to the 1950s, when fears of nuclear war reached a fever pitch.
The 1970s saw the emergence of the survivalist movement, which dwindled in the 1990s as it became increasingly associated with an extreme-right subculture steeped in racist ideology.
A third wave followed in the early 2000s, when the term 'prepper' began to be adopted more widely, said Michael Mills, a social scientist at Anglia Ruskin University, who specializes in survivalism and doomsday prepping cultures. Numbers swelled following big disasters such as 9/11, Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and the 2008 financial crisis.
A watershed moment for right-wing preppers was the election of Barack Obama in 2008, Mills said. For those on the left, it was Trump's 2016 election.
Preppers of all political stripes are usually motivated by a 'foggy cloud of fear' rather than a belief in one specific doomsday scenario playing out, Mills said. Broad anxieties tend to swirl around the possibility of economic crises, pandemics, natural disasters, war and terrorism.
'We've hit every one of those' since the start of this century, said Anna Maria Bounds, a sociology professor at Queens College, who has written a book about New York's prepper subculture. These events have solidified many preppers' fears that, in times of crisis, the government would be 'overwhelmed, under-prepared and unwilling to help,' she said.
This fear is where Marlon Smith's interest in preparedness began. Growing up in Trinidad, he lived through an attempted coup in 1990 that sparked his concern the government would not be there in times of disaster. This only deepened after he moved to New York City and watched the aftermath of 9/11 and then Hurricane Katrina. 'You see the inability of the government to truly help their citizens,' he said.
Smith, who now lives in New Jersey, runs a fashion company by day and spends his weekends teaching survival skills — including how to survive nuclear fallout. 'People find it funny that I work in women's evening wear and yet I do this hardcore prepping and survivalism in the woods,' he said.
It's hard to pin down the exact number of preppers in the US. Mills says 5 million is a reasonable estimate; others would saymuch higher. Chris Ellis, a military officer and academic who researches disaster preparedness, puts the figure at around 20 to 23 million using data from FEMA household surveys.
Figuring out the proportion of preppers on the left is perhaps even trickier. Mills, who has surveyed 2,500 preppers over the past decade, has consistently found about 80% identify as conservatives, libertarians or another right-wing ideology. He doesn't see any dramatic upswing in left-wing preppers.
Anecdotal evidence, however, points to increased interest from this side of the political spectrum.
Several left-wing preppers told CNN about the burgeoning popularity of their newsletters, social media channels and prepping courses. Shonkwiler says subscriber numbers to his newsletter When/If increase exponentially whenever right-wing views make headlines, especially elections. He saw a huge uptick when Trump was reelected.
Smith has noticed more liberals among his growing client roster for prepping courses. He has an upcoming session teaching a group in the Hamptons — 'all Democrats,' he said.
Smith is at pains to keep politics out of prepping, however, and makes his clients sign a waiver agreeing not to talk about it. 'You leave your politics and your religion at the door. … You come here to learn; I'll teach you,' he said.
In some ways, there aren't huge differences in how preppers on the left and right prepare, Mills said. Both focus on long-term supplies of food and water, gathering equipment needed to 'bug in,' when they shelter in their homes, and 'bug out,' when they need to leave in a hurry.
Many left-wing preppers also have guns.
Killjoy is open about the fact she owns firearms but calls it one of the least important aspects of her prepping. She lives in rural Appalachia and, as a transgender woman, says the way she's treated has changed dramatically since Trump's first election. For those on the left, guns are 'for community and self-defense,' she said.
Left-wing preppers consistently say the biggest difference between them and their right-wing peers is the rejection of 'bunker mentality' — the idea of filling a bunker with beans, rice, guns and ammo and expecting to be able to survive the apocalypse alone.
Shonkwiler gives an example of a right-wing guy with a rifle on his back, who falls down the stairs and breaks a leg. If he doesn't have medical training and a community to help, 'he's going to die before he gets to enjoy all his freeze-dried food.'
'People are our greatest asset,' Killjoy said. When Hurricane Helene carved a path of destruction through Asheville, North Carolina in 2024, Killjoy, who used to live in the city, loaded her truck with food and generators and drove there to help.
Inshirah Overton also subscribes to the idea of community. The attorney, who came to prepping after enduring Hurricane Irene in 2011, owns a half-acre plot of land in New Jersey where she grows food and has beehives.
She stores fruit, vegetables and honey but also gives them to friends and neighbors. 'My plan is to create a community of people who have a vested interest in this garden,' she said.
At one point, Overton toyed with the idea of buying a 'bug-out' property in Vermont, somewhere to escape to, but desire for community for her and her two daughters stopped her. In Vermont, 'no one knows me and I'm just a random Black lady, and they'll be like: 'Oh, OK, right, sure. You live here? Sure. Here's the barrel of my shotgun. Turn around.''
This focus on community may stem in part from left-wing preppers' growing fears around the climate crisis, predicted to usher in far-reaching ecological, social and economic breakdown. It cannot be escaped by retreating to a bunker for a few weeks.
As Trump guts weather agencies, pledges to unwind the Federal Emergency Management Administration and slashes climate funding — all while promising to unleash the fossil fuel industry — climate concerns are only coming into sharper focus.
They're top of mind for Brekke Wagoner, the creator and host of the Sustainable Prepping YouTube channel, who lives in North Carolina with her four children. She fears increasingly deadly summer heat and the 'once-in-a-lifetime' storms that keep coming. Climate change 'is just undeniable,' she said.
Her prepping journey started during Trump's first term. She was living in California and filled with fear that in the event of a big natural disaster, the federal government would simply not be there.
Her house now contains a week's worth of water, long-term food supplies, flashlights, backup batteries and a solar generator. 'My goal is for our family to have all of our needs cared for,' she said, so in an emergency, whatever help is available can go to others.
'You can have a preparedness plan that doesn't involve a bunker and giving up on civilization,' she said.
A bow and a quiver of arrows hang on a rack at Shonkwiler's home.
Despite prepping's reputation as a form of doomerism, many left-wing preppers say they are not devoid of hope. Shonkwiler believes there will be an opportunity to create something new in the aftermath of a crisis. 'It begins with preparedness and it ends with a better world,' he said.
Some also say there's less tension between left- and right-wing preppers than people might expect. Bounds, the sociology professor, said very conservative preppers she met during her research contacted her during the Covid-19 pandemic to offer help.
There is a natural human solidarity that emerges amid disaster, Killjoy said. She recalls a cashier giving her a deep discount on supplies she was buying to take to Asheville post-Helene. 'I have every reason to believe that that man is right-wing, and I do think that there is a transcending of political differences that happens in times of crisis,' she said.
As terrifying events pile up, from the wars in Ukraine and the Middle East to deadly extreme weather, it's hard to escape the sense we live in a time of rolling existential crises — often a hair's breadth from global disaster.
People are increasingly beginning to wonder whether their views on preppers have been misconceived, Mills said. 'There is a bigger question floating in the air, which is: Are preppers crazy, or is everyone else?'
Shonkwiler displays a cabinet of supplies he keeps in his basement.
Killjoy has seen a huge change over the last five years in people's openness to prepping. Those who used to make fun of her for her 'go bag' are now asking for advice.
It's not necessarily the start of a prepping boom, she said. 'I think it is about more and more people adopting preparedness and prepper things into a normal life.'
Evidence already points this way. Americans stockpiled goods in advance of Trump's tariffs and online sales of contraceptives skyrocketed in the wake of his election, amid concerns he would reduce access. Shows like 'The Walking Dead,' meanwhile, have thrust the idea of prepping into popular culture and big box stores now sell prepping equipment and meal kits.
People are hungry to learn about preparedness, said Shonkwiler. 'They have the understanding that the world as we knew it, and counted on it, is beginning to cease to be. … What we need to be doing now is figuring out how we can survive in the world that we've created.'