A few things have happened over the past few weeks that may seem unrelated. To me, they are deeply connected.

Janelle Reilly recently announced her retirement from Memorial after 37 years in healthcare. She is one of only a handful of women leading Chattanooga’s largest organizations. She is strong, self-made and someone I have watched, until her last days in leadership, fight for what she believed was right for healthcare and for this community.

Her retirement made me think about another woman I saw almost exactly 30 years ago.

On October 4, 1996, when I was 16, I left Chattanooga for a Pearl Jam concert in North Carolina.

Somewhere in the middle of the concert, Gloria Steinem walked onto the stage with Eddie Vedder.

She spoke about voting and defeating Jesse Helms, the powerful longtime North Carolina senator whose career included fierce opposition to civil rights, women’s rights and LGBTQ rights.

At 16, I didn’t fully understand who Gloria Steinem was.

But I remember her.

And afterward, I learned.

She represented something I hadn’t seen much growing up in Chattanooga: a woman completely comfortable having a voice, using it publicly and challenging powerful people. She wasn’t asking permission.

I remember thinking, That’s who I want to be when I grow up.

I just didn’t know what that looked like yet.

I left Chattanooga and spent nearly 20 years living in other cities. I built a career and found myself surrounded by strong women from many different backgrounds - women who led organizations, challenged institutions and expected their voices to matter.

Eventually, my husband and I came home. Our parents were here. We love this community and wanted to raise our children here.

I love Chattanooga.

But sometimes it is lonely here.

We remain remarkably separated by race, wealth, neighborhoods, schools and access to power. There are extraordinary women here, and I have been fortunate to find many of them. But women - particularly women from diverse backgrounds - remain too rare in the rooms where our biggest decisions are made.

Over the past year, I decided I could no longer simply be frustrated by that.

I helped start the Brighter Future Fund after watching increasingly extreme decisions by our local School Board. My breaking point came when mental-health services were removed from thousands of students shortly after our community experienced the devastating loss of a child to suicide.

All three of my children attend public schools. These decisions aren’t theoretical to me.

This summer, I watched something hopeful happen. People knocked on doors, donated, talked to neighbors and voted. Voters brought greater balance to both our County Commission and School Board.

Then this week, we took a step backward.

When District 11 School Board member Jill Black resigned with two years remaining in her term, Tennessee law provided a path for District 11 voters to choose her successor in November. But the County Commission first had to formally declare the vacancy before the statutory deadline.

Commissioners had that opportunity. The vote was 5–5. Without a majority, the resolution failed.

The consequence is what matters: District 11 voters will not choose their next School Board representative this November. Instead, the County Commission will be positioned to appoint someone to the seat.

And suddenly I found myself thinking again about that night in 1996.

At 16, I watched Gloria Steinem stand in front of thousands of young people and tell us that our voices - and our votes - mattered.

Thirty years later, I am watching a procedural decision determine whether my neighbors get to exercise that vote.

There are days when Chattanooga’s old power structures feel immovable. Losing another woman from one of our city’s most powerful leadership positions while watching political power determine who gets a voice can make change feel painfully slow.

But then I think about Gloria. I think about Janelle. And I think about the growing number of people I have met since coming home who are building something different.

Change is slow. Power rarely gives itself away willingly.

My 16-year-old self didn’t know exactly what she wanted to become when she watched Gloria Steinem that night. She just knew she wanted a voice like that.

Thirty years later, I understand why.

Having a voice matters. Having a vote matters. And when either is threatened, you don’t give up.

You find the people willing to stand beside you - and you keep going.

Lauren Sloan is a healthcare executive, public-school parent, community advocate and founder of Brighter Future Fund working to strengthen Chattanooga’s future.

Lauren Sloan