Climate Migration Doesn’t Always Arrive on a Boat

“Climate migration is already happening. And it is not just about movement; it is about who gets to thrive in a changing world, and who gets left behind,” writes Emelie Y. Jimenez, Outreach Specialist on federal housing initiatives in Washington, D.C.

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By Emelie Y. Jimenez

When people hear the words climate migration, they often imagine a boat filled with desperate families fleeing famine, floods, or fires. But climate migration today is far more complicated. It is not always dramatic, and it is not always visible. Sometimes, it shows up quietly, in the form of rising rent and sudden development.

This isn’t just a crisis for people fleeing uninhabitable land. It is also putting pressure on cities that were never designed to absorb them. 

Rising housing costs, aging infrastructure, and speculative development are quietly displacing the working class. People are running from danger to chase stability. And those with money and mobility often land on their feet, often with someone else’s home in their hands.

When Higher Ground Becomes the New Oceanfront

I grew up in Miami, a city once filled with vibrant immigrant neighborhoods and semi-affordable housing. But over the past decade, that affordability has vanished.

Between 2019 and 2023, property taxes in northwest Miami rose by 60%, averaging $3,636 a year. Why? Rising sea levels have made oceanfront property riskier. So, investors and developers are turning inland, targeting higher-elevation neighborhoods like Allapattah, Liberty City, and Little Haiti – historically Black and immigrant communities.

These areas are now being flooded, not by water but by luxury developments, and rents are increasing dramatically. The people moving in aren’t just seeking opportunity; they’re seeking safety from climate risk. What is happening isn’t simply gentrification. It is climate displacement.

Why Calling It That Matters

Naming it climate displacement – and not just gentrification – matters because it shifts how we understand the problem, and how we design solutions.

Gentrification is usually seen as a byproduct of market forces or cultural shifts. But climate displacement is a symptom of a deeper issue: the re-mapping of safety and risk. It is driven by rising seas, heat, drought, and environmental collapse, not just lifestyle preference.

When we name it accurately, we open doors to real solutions. Funding for disaster mitigation and climate adaptation becomes more accessible. Policy and legal tools can be reimagined to protect communities in both departure and destination areas. If we keep calling it gentrification, we risk treating it like a local housing issue instead of the global, systemic crisis that it is.

Zambia: Water Scarcity and Cultural Erosion

Between 2022 and 2024, I served as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Northern Zambia. I lived in the village of Chiombo, where I saw climate change directly affecting how people live and move. Even in a relatively water-secure region, our borehole went dry for weeks at a time. Families, mostly women and children, walked miles for water.

In the southern and eastern provinces, things are worse. Prolonged droughts have decimated crops, killed livestock, and made life unsustainable. So, people are moving northward, to regions with more water and to Lusaka, the capital, in search of jobs and stability.

But as they arrive, a different kind of displacement unfolds. The migrants, primarily Tonga, Nyanja, and Chewa speakers, are entering areas dominated by Bemba-speaking communities. Over time, subcultures, languages, and identities are being absorbed into the dominant group. More than just the movement of people, this is a reshuffling of cultural power.

At the same time, Lusaka’s informal settlements have tripled in size in just two decades. The city’s population has quadrupled, but housing has not kept up. Now, even middle-income families are priced out. A newly built urban home can cost the equivalent of 25 years’ salary. The story here echoes Miami – overburdened infrastructure, rising costs, and a city expanding faster than it can plan.

Arizona: Climate Havens and Economic Gatekeeping

Climate displacement is also playing out in Western US, in cities like Flagstaff, Arizona.

This summer, Phoenix, which is grappling with chronic drought, experienced record-breaking heat. As conditions worsen, many wealthier residents are heading north, just a two-hour drive and 5,000 feet of elevation away, to escape extreme temperatures and water stress.

Flagstaff, seen as a climate “haven”, is absorbing this influx. Here, just like in Miami and Lusaka, prices are rising. Longstanding residents, many of them Indigenous and working class people, are being priced out of their own city.

As wealthier people move into these safer zones, they bring money, political influence, and investment, shifting local priorities to serve new residents, not the ones already there. Once again, power is being redistributed, and those with the least say in the process are the ones most affected.

If It’s Not Happening to You, Why Should You Care?

Even if you are not being displaced, its consequences will reach you. Climate displacement puts pressure on housing markets, schools, healthcare systems, and infrastructure – especially in cities that were not built for sudden population growth. That means higher rent, longer waitlists, overcrowded services, and increased competition for basic resources.

It also reshapes the political and economic map. As people migrate, they bring with them new voting patterns, cultural shifts, and demands on local governments. And when the wealthy buy safety, they often reshape policy in ways that exclude everyone else, deepening inequality and driving polarization.

During a TED Talk about how displaced people are already driving local economies, Julienne Oyler, Founder and Executive Director of African Entrepreneur Collective, said that one in 10 of us will be displaced in the next 25 years due to climate change. This is why humanitarian aid, while essential in moments of crisis, isn’t enough. The global aid system was never built to offer dignity or sustainability. Real action requires a shift in mindset, in perspective, and in logistics. 

We need long-term planning, not temporary solutions. The longer we ignore it, the more expensive and divisive it becomes for all of us.

What Needs to Change

If we want a different outcome, we need to start by calling this for what it is and then act accordingly. That means investing in the places where people are leaving, not just the ones they are arriving in. We need to improve water access, support climate-resilient agriculture, and build reliable infrastructure in vulnerable rural regions, so that people have a real choice to stay. Displacement shouldn’t be the only option.

At the same time, urban areas need to be prepared, not just to absorb growing populations, but to do it equitably. That includes expanding access to affordable housing, strengthening renter protections, and designing public infrastructure that supports long-term residents instead of pushing them out. Cities must plan for people, not just profit.

We also need to build legal and funding frameworks that treat climate displacement as part of climate adaptation. Right now, policy often separates housing from environmental risk, and disaster aid from migration. But these issues are deeply connected. Recognizing climate displacement as a systemic issue allows us to unlock new tools, from federal disaster funds to international development grants, and design targeted, inclusive solutions.

Naming it doesn’t just change the conversation, it changes what we can do about it. It makes room for action that is honest, effective, and rooted in justice.

Climate migration is already happening. And it is not just about movement; it is about who gets to thrive in a changing world, and who gets left behind. Whether in neighborhoods like mine, in rural Zambia, or in mountain towns across the American West, we have a choice: treat this moment as an opportunity to build more resilient cities or watch the same cycle of displacement repeat itself – under different skies, with the same tragic ending.

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About the author: Emelie Y. Jimenez is a first-generation Cuban American and policy professional currently serving as an Outreach Specialist on federal housing initiatives in Washington, D.C. Born and raised in Miami, she has witnessed firsthand how climate change accelerates gentrification, displaces working-class communities, and threatens cultural preservation. She previously served as a Peace Corps volunteer in Zambia, where she led clean water and maternal health projects funded by a USAID grant. Her published research with the Jack D. Gordon Institute explores human trafficking, smuggling, and transnational law in the Western Hemisphere. Emelie holds a B.A. in Political Science from Florida International University and writes at the intersection of climate, migration, and inequality.