about
Lynne Russo

Smiling woman with glasses seated on a brown leather chair in a cozy, modern indoor setting.

I was in my condo on a mountain in Western North Carolina the night Hurricane Helene hit.

Like everyone else, I didn't fully understand what was coming.

When the storm passed, I stepped outside and saw trees down everywhere. Roads were blocked. I started dragging what I could out of the way, mostly thinking about my older neighbors. If someone got hurt, they needed a way out.

A woman nearby came out and said someone in her home needed oxygen. We worked for hours. At the time, we didn't even know there was no way off the mountain. It would take days for people with chainsaws to carve a path out.

A couple days in, I saw the first plane fly overhead and just broke down crying. I remember thinking, someone is finally coming.

When we finally made it down, the devastation was overwhelming. Places like Chimney Rock and Lake Lure were unrecognizable. And it quickly became clear this wasn't isolated. Communities across the region, including Swannanoa, Asheville, and Bat Cave right here in our district, had been hit hard.

But what I can't shake is what I saw from people. Neighbors, churches, complete strangers. People showed up for each other without asking questions. It didn't matter who you were. They just helped.

I started making videos to share information. What FEMA was doing. What people actually needed to do next. Because help was coming in, but people didn't always know how to access it.

At the same time, I started paying closer attention to what was happening in Raleigh. And it didn't match what we were living through here. The urgency just wasn't there.

I kept asking myself, where is the person who is going to fight for us every single day?

Eventually I realized I couldn't keep asking that question. I needed to step up and do it.

I'll be honest with people. I didn't grow up here. I came to Western North Carolina at a turning point in my life.

During the pandemic, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I got through that, and shortly after, my father became very ill with multiple cancers and dementia. I spent over a year helping care for him with my mom, and I feel grateful for the opportunity to walk him home. That experience changed me.

After that, I knew I needed a fresh start. I first came to Hendersonville with a close friend who was writing a travel piece on the area. I fell in love with it, went home, and then came back almost immediately to build a life here, even though I didn't know many people.

Going through Hurricane Helene alongside my neighbors made that connection permanent.

So when people ask if I know this community well enough to represent it, I understand the question.

What I can tell you is this: I'm here. I'm listening. And I'm not going anywhere.

To me, representation isn't about how long your name has been somewhere. It's about whether you show up for people and whether you're willing to fight for them.

That's why I'm running for NC House District 117.

Because Western North Carolina has been through too much to be overlooked, and there is still too much work left to do.

That work starts with real Hurricane Helene recovery. Not just promises, but results people can actually feel.

It means fighting for affordable healthcare, strong public schools, and protecting the things that hold this region together, our farmers, our rural hospitals, and our nursing homes.

And it means making sure no child in this state goes hungry.

I'm ready to do that work.