9/11: The Day I Encountered a Special Message and Messenger

On that fateful day, I woke up in my Washington DC apartment anxious to get going. New on the job as a press secretary to a Democratic Congresswoman (name withheld for privacy purposes), I was eager to prove myself to someone reputed as “the meanest Capitol Hill employer.” As it was a Tuesday, it would be a long day. I planned to call every CNN and MSNBC producer to book her on shows to discuss a recent South African trip. Then, as the designated staff member, I would accompany her to several events late into the night. Each task would bring drama, a typical occurrence at this office. Yet, I committed to persevere, as this job would build my activism credentials.

To keep myself centered for the day, I read from my morning devotional: a little book quoting Native American wisdom[1]. As a daughter of immigrants from India, I connected with the original inhabitants of this land whom I shared an (erroneous) nomenclature with. I opened the page to the devotional for September 11. It challenged readers to consider a world based upon human values instead of economics. It quoted Sioux writer Vine Deloria Jr., saying “Someday, this country will revise its Constitution, laws, in terms of human beings instead of property.”

I briefly thought about the message and ran off to work. I had to attend a Democratic Messaging Meeting inside the U.S. Capitol from 7:45 to 8:45 a.m. and did not want to be late. Looking back, I cannot remember the message of the meeting that day. As I walked out of the meeting, I heard some chatter about “a plane crashing in New York.” Though empathetic, I funneled that babble in one ear and out the other, as it did not concern me. When I reached my office in the Cannon House Office Building, I was shocked to learn that two commercial jetliners had crashed into the World Trade Center towers. As my New York colleague frantically called friends and family, I sent emails to my own friends who lived in the city. Then, we heard the Pentagon had been hit. “Oh no, my younger brother works close to there,” I said. We immediately evacuated the building amidst rumors of bombs near the State Department, White House and other locations. Later, we learned that United Airlines Flight 93 was headed to the U.S. Capitol building, where I was. I thank the heroes who diverted the flight and as a result, sacrificed their lives.

As I left the building wondering if I was running for my own life, I used my barely charged cell phone to call family. I called my brother, who said that he was drinking coffee in his building’s basement when the plane hit, so he didn’t feel the impact. His colleagues, however, described the building shake. Later, my brother’s head pounded from breathing the fumes of the crash, just blocks away.

My colleagues and I walked over to the Congresswoman’s apartment and continued watching the coverage in her lobby.

“Nine one-one will be called the day America called 911,” the newscaster said.

Since security sealed off the Capitol complex, we were told to go home.

“We should avoid bridges” a colleague said. So, I decided to take a detour home, following a friend who lived on the opposite side of town.

I called my father as I was driving. He was happy to hear I was safe. He was booting up his computer when he heard the news.

“Washington has been attacked,” my father heard a coworker say in his Omaha, Neb. office. He sat in a daze, since both his children worked in Washington. When he called my mother, an elementary school teacher, she cried.

I arrived home safely. My brother, who I lived with, turned on the news. We heard more about the hijackings and the Twin Towers succumbing. From our front window, we could see the black smoke from the Pentagon attack. We were still trying to make sense of what was going on. Was a nuclear attack next?

By mid-afternoon, the news moved in slow motion. We could only sit and wait. So, I decided to take a nap. Before shutting my eyes, I looked out the back window. Behind the woods, the local CBS and NBC affiliates were broadcasting this tragedy. I envisioned the chaos reporters tussled with as all stations preempted regular programming. With my thoughts racing, I eyeballed the landscape.

Suddenly, I spotted a deer. It was gently eating from the leaves, which reflected the sun. Decades before iPhones, I could only capture the scene with my eyes. Like me, the deer had woken up that morning, seeking nourishment and sustenance. Yet, the deer could enjoy the crispness of the autumn and the bounty of the earth, while I had to worry. I meditated upon the scene for some time, and it gave me peace.

What message did the deer have for me? For America? A deer represents spiritual authority. So, could its arrival have signaled me to share my wisdom? Perhaps, but a week shy of my 30th birthday, I had no clout or time to contemplate on this. Young, naïve, and idealistic, I thought a quality life came from working long hours and emulating others. Though I worked as an adviser to the center of power, personal empowerment eluded me. Furthermore, systemic racism thwarted me, a woman of color, from delivering wise words. Thus, the deer I saw that day simply gave me a personal anecdote, not much else.

I continued working for Congress for six years, though I switched Members. I wrote speeches advocating for disadvantaged people to gain better access to our economically based society. This was the same society Native Americans warned us about in my Sept. 11 reading.

Twenty years after the worst terrorist attacks on U.S. soil, I’m now a week shy of my 50th birthday. I’m no Yoda, but I think the trials and tribulations I’ve faced yield sage advice.

As I reflect on 9/11, two points flash in my mind: the messenger and the message. The messenger was the deer, who symbolized sensitivity and gentleness, while the message sprouted from indigenous wisdom. What would our world look like if our values and interactions stemmed from sensitivity and gentleness toward people? Perhaps we would have:

· Focused more on humanitarian efforts in Afghanistan than on enriching the military-industrial complex.

· Tended to people’s health and wellness during a global pandemic rather than an elusive, self-centered “freedom” fantasy.

· Found ways to include people in our democracy rather than manipulate them into disenfranchisement.

· Framed pro-life values into eliminating gun violence, police brutality and sadism rather than diluting women’s health.

· Buoying diversity instead of perpetuating racial superiority.

Throughout its life, a deer’s antlers fall and regenerate. Like a deer, society’s “antlers” ascent and collapse, opening doors for new ways of thinking, relating, and building. We missed that opportunity on September 11, 2001. But it’s not too late.

[1] Schaef, Anne, Wilson. PhD. Native Wisdom for White Minds. 1995, Ballantine Books, New York.