Why I'm Not a Survivalist (A Rant)

I recently joined a "prepper" group here in Richmond.  I was looking to broaden my social network and went browsing on Meetup, and this was the most active of several groups I joined.  Since my son was born, my main social interactions have been with through a local "crunchy mama" group, but it's not as good a fit as it used to be.  The prepper group has some very good classes, and they seem to be nice enough people.  Urban homesteading, which is my defining interest and activity these days, overlaps in many ways with survivalist "prepping".  Does this make me a survivalist?  I have a lot in common with many survivalists, but I do not consider myself one.  In fact, I often find hard-core survivalists really irritating.  For example, I keep hearing how great this guy is that writes the "Surviving in Argentina" blog.  Supposedly his experience surviving the economic collapse in Argentina makes him an authority.  But all he seems to write about is guns, self-defense, bugging out, and similar topics.  Although he lives in Argentina and has a Spanish name, his writings betray no interest in, participation in, understanding of, or respect for, the culture of that country.  He could just as easily be writing in Texas or Montana, and I'm sure that's why he's so popular. Admittedly, I haven't read very much of what the guy writes, because I get overwhelmed with disgust when I try.  

I have not experienced an economic collapse.  But, I have lived through personal crisis and extreme poverty in Mexico City, and if I were to write about that, it would look very different.  I would tell you about how I adapted to a very difficult situation, and how different it was in reality from what I expected, and how much courage I discovered in myself, and how the experience changed me.  I would tell you about the interesting people I got to know and the subculture my street-musician boyfriend introduced me to.  I would tell you about having only two changes of clothes, and going as long as 10 days without a shower.  I would tell you about taking care of my boyfriend, who was diagnosed with AIDS and tuberculosis after we had been together for a year, and who I alone supported.  I would tell you about the first time I got on a city bus to sell chocolate bars, because I could make as much in a few hours doing that as working an office job all day, and I couldn't leave my boyfriend alone all day when he was sick, and about how long I sat at the bus stop trying to get up the courage to do it.  I would tell you that in Mexico City, it's hard to starve to death, because there's always someone who will lend you a meal if you know how to ask.  I would tell you how we maintained friendships in a city of 30 million without knowing anyone's address, phone number, or email.  I would tell you about the homeless shelters and rat holes we slept in.  I would tell you about the wonderful food we ate, and the culinary revelation that is Mexico.  I would tell you about how I lost my fear, and even the police couldn't intimidate me.  I would tell you how I managed to live in the city that even most Mexicans are afraid to visit, and walk down its streets in the middle of the night alone, without being afraid.  I would tell you what things "preppers" worry about that are silly, and what I think they should worry more about.  I would tell you why it broke my heart to leave Mexico, and why I still want to go back. 

I do want to hear stories of economic collapse in other countries, just not the kind of stories this guy is writing.