Twenty-five years after the attacks, the women who warned, rescued, cared, and demanded answers offer enduring lessons about leadership and institutional resilience.

What does leadership look like when the world changes in minutes?

I remember the sky first. Tuesday, September 11, 2001, began as a beautiful, crisp morning in Washington, D.C.—the kind of fall day that offered no warning of what was coming. I was a young attorney and lobbyist working on Capitol Hill, running late to Union Station to meet my friend Renee Amoore, a businesswoman, health-care expert, and education advocate coming to Washington for an education hearing with then-First Lady Laura Bush and Senator Ted Kennedy (D-MASS).

My sister-in-law called as I was rushing out the door and told me to turn on the television. Annoyed, I turned on the Today Show . Minutes later, I watched the second plane strike the World Trade Center in real time. My knees buckled. I knew what was happening. Then my pager went off, and communications began failing across Washington.

I lived close enough to the Pentagon that I felt the impact when Flight 77 struck. Car alarms sounded. Black smoke rose into the blue sky. My former boss, Barbara Olson, of the Government Reform and Oversight Committee, was aboard that plane. My mother, an RN, was working at Washington Hospital Center as burn victims began to arrive from the Pentagon.

By afternoon, the streets were empty and an eerie silence had settled over the nation’s capital. Twenty-five years later, I remember that silence. But I also understand something I could not fully see then:

Women were central to how America warned, responded, cared, rebuilt, and demanded accountability after 9/11.

Their stories offer lessons for every leader responsible for preparing an organization to withstand a crisis.

Lesson 1: Communicate Clearly When Information Is Incomplete

Flight attendants Betty Ong and Madeline Amy Sweeney were among the first to tell the outside world what was happening aboard American Airlines Flight 11. According to the 9/11 Commission , they relayed critical information about the hijackers and conditions aboard the aircraft.

They did not have a complete picture or wait for one. They communicated useful information under unimaginable pressure.

The first leadership lesson: In a crisis, clearly communicate what is known and unknown rather than waiting for complete certainty. Employees must know whom to contact when normal systems fail. Emergency protocols must be practiced and accessible to those closest to the problem—not only those with the highest titles.

Lesson 2: Empower People To Act

The public image of the rescue effort is overwhelmingly male, but women also ran toward danger. NYPD Officer Moira Smith helped evacuate the South Tower. Port Authority Police Captain Kathy Mazza and emergency medical technician Yamel Merino died trying to save others .

That same morning, 26-year-old Lieutenant Heather “Lucky” Penney —the first female fighter pilot in her D.C. Air National Guard unit—was scrambled alongside flight lead Marc Sasseville with authorization to stop any hijacked aircraft threatening Washington. Because their F-16s carried no live weapons, they understood that bringing down Flight 93 could require ramming it with their own aircraft—a mission neither expected to survive.

Their courage reminds us that leadership is the willingness to accept responsibility when the moment requires it.

Organizations often say they want decisive people, yet make employees afraid to act without layers of approval. In an emergency, hesitation can cost lives. Leaders must establish clear authority, train people to exercise judgment and treat speaking up as a responsibility rather than a risk.

That is an excellent addition. She embodies both the women’s theme and the business lesson about empowering trained people to act under extreme pressure.

Lesson 3: Treat Care As Essential Infrastructure

Ten years after the attacks, I wrote about Felicia Traylor Bass , an African American woman, wife, and new mother who, returning from maternity leave, went into the office early that morning to cover for a sick colleague. She was a human-resources professional who worked in the North Tower. Felicia called her husband, Andrew, after the building was struck. It was the last time they spoke.

In the years that followed, Andrew’s longtime friend Karen Taylor helped him move through grief and eventually open his heart to life again. Karen became a mother to Felicia’s young son without attempting to erase the mother he had lost. Their family understood something institutions too often forget: Resilience does not require erasing grief. It requires making room for memory while helping people move forward.

Businesses can restore systems and reopen offices. But real continuity planning must account for people carrying trauma, illness, and loss. That means mental-health support, humane bereavement policies, flexibility for caregivers and long-term health monitoring after workers have been exposed to danger.

The consequences of failing to think beyond reopening are still unfolding. The World Trade Center Health Program now serves more than 154,000 responders and survivors exposed to the toxic aftermath of the attacks. More than 9,200 program members have died, although enrollment in the program does not itself establish that every death was caused by a 9/11-related condition.

Returning to business is not the same as recovering. Leaders must measure recovery by the long-term well-being of people, not simply by how quickly the doors reopen.

Lesson 4: Demand Accountability—And Preserve Institutional Memory

Four widows known as the “Jersey Girls”—Kristen Breitweiser, Patty Casazza, Mindy Kleinberg and Lorie Van Auken—helped force the creation of an independent commission . They studied the failures preceding 9/11, asked difficult questions and refused to let institutional resistance end the inquiry.

Their lesson is equally important: Accountability is not disloyalty. It is how institutions learn.

That matters even more as living memory fades. New Pew Research Center data finds that 83% of American adults born before 2001 remember exactly where they were or what they were doing when they heard the news. But 10% of adults were born after 2001. They know 9/11 only through what others have taught them.

Every institution eventually faces this challenge. People who experienced a defining crisis retire, leave, or die. Unless their knowledge is documented, taught and tested, hard-won lessons disappear. Succession planning is not just about replacing leaders. It is about transferring memory.

The women of 9/11 did not all wear uniforms. They did not all hold senior titles. Some communicated from the sky. Some ran into burning buildings. Some cared for the injured and bereaved. Others demanded answers from the most powerful institutions in the country.

They led through competence, courage, care, and accountability.

Twenty-five years later, honoring them requires more than remembering their names. It requires building workplaces and institutions that reflect how they led: Prepare people before the crisis. Trust them when it comes. Care for them long after the headlines fade. And have the courage to learn what must never happen again.