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The Outlanders camp is tucked in a patch of woods in South Raleigh near Interstate 40, thick foliage camouflaging it from the road. To enter, follow the wide pathway flanked by fences made from discarded wooden pallets. Signs posted on tree trunks inform you that you’re on camera and ask you to “Pitch in! Put Trash In Its Place.”
There’s a fire pit, a picnic table, and a portable toilet. Strands of colored lights hang between the trees. Found objects and handmade decorations dot the campsite: a chipped garden statue, a custom metal signpost, pennants made from torn-up plastic bags tied onto blue twine.
Individual campsites are tidy and personalized. They have heaters, generators, TVs, fans, microwaves, full-size beds, and pantries full of nonperishable food. Some residents live in clusters of tents; others have built apartment-sized dwellings out of posts, tarps, and wood panels.
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Pallets line the path along the entrance to the Outlanders encampment in Raleigh. Credit: Photo by Matt Ramey -
A metal sign at the entrance of the Outlanders camp. Credit: Photo by Matt Ramey -
Outlanders mayor Will Harris points to the landscaping work he has been doing in the encampment. Credit: Photo by Matt Ramey
At any given time there are about a dozen people living here. Most of them are middle-aged; a handful are married couples. Newcomers and rule-breakers live on the edge in a zone called Receiving and Noncompliance. Off to the side is an area called Veterans’ Ridge, home to two former service members.
“We chose to live this way,” said Will Harris, who last year was elected mayor of Outlanders—believed to be the first self-governing homeless encampment in North Carolina. “People have that misconception: You live out in the woods, you’re either a drug addict or this and that. No we’re not. We’re none of those. We chose to do this.”
Every Outlander has a different reason for being there. Some of them aspire to live in houses; others like Harris would prefer to camp forever. Some of them have jobs; some don’t. Some have a history of substance abuse or incarceration. Some are sick or disabled.
Many of the campers don’t consider themselves homeless. After all, they have a safe place to sleep at night and neighbors who care about them. They’re homesteaders, an intentional community.
“I enjoy being out here. I love it,” said Maurice Fowlkes, one of the newest residents. He’s in his early 60s, tall and lanky with a pencil mustache. He nicknamed his campsite, where he and his wife, Shaun, have been living for about seven months, Fowlkes’ Frontier. They came here to find their footing after a hard time: The couple recently got out of prison and Shaun is in cancer recovery.
“I want other people to know, don’t be ashamed of living in a tent,” Fowlkes said. “Because…
