Angela Davis’s fight is far from over. It’s about time we all join her.

Angela Davis was on the run, slipping through cities in wigs and disguises like a drag queen swapping looks between runway walks.  Her face was plastered on wanted posters across the country as the FBI hunted her down. 

It was 1970. Davis — a queer Black woman, scholar, and revolutionary — had been charged with murder, kidnapping, and conspiracy for standing against a system that sought to silence her. 

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Fast forward to today, when transgender people are under attack, reproductive rights have been gutted, and Donald Trump’s dangerous rhetoric threatens democracy. Davis’s bold defiance against injustice feels more relevant than ever and serves as a rallying cry in an election where the stakes could not be higher.

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Davis grew up in the heart of the Jim Crow South: Montgomery, Alabama, a city simmering with racial tension and violence. The defining moment of her childhood came in 1963 when white supremacists bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, killing four young Black girls. She heard Bull Connor, Birmingham’s notorious segregationist police chief, on the radio, spewing the same kind of hateful rhetoric that we hear today from Donald Trump — both using fear and division to stoke hatred. 

Confronting this kind of bigotry at an early age fueled Davis’s resolve and eventually led her to take on the system and find herself on the run from the FBI. Standing up against institutional racism, government oppression, police brutality, and an unjust criminal justice system, she had been tied to an attempt to free three Black inmates who had been accused of killing a prison guard. Jonathan Jackson, a Black Panther and the younger brother of political prisoner George Jackson, stormed the courtroom to demand the release of the three men using guns that Davis had legally purchased. This connection led the state to target Davis, blaming her for the violent shootout that followed and resulted in the deaths of the judge, Jackson, and two of the prisoners.

Though Davis wasn’t directly involved in the act, her support for revolutionary causes and her purchase of the firearms made her a target. Her iconic afro — a bold symbol of Black resistance — became a powerful image that inspired her supporters but also cast her as the perfect scapegoat for a public entrenched in racism, sexism, and homophobia. 

At the time, buying guns for self-defense or resistance wasn’t unusual, especially for those fighting against systemic oppression — even within queer movements. Organizations like the Gay Liberation Front and the Radical Faeries recognized that violence against marginalized groups demanded a strong response. 

Davis’s time on the run was filled with close calls, like when the FBI stormed her New York hotel room just hours after she had escaped, tipped off about their approach. The narrow miss happened in the same city where only a year earlier, LGBTQ+ people instigated the Stonewall Uprising to resist police raids on queer bars. 

Davis faced state violence both for her activism and her identity as a queer Black woman, much like today’s trans kids, who are targeted through discriminatory laws and government surveillance. Today’s GOP-led states are trying to monitor parents seeking gender-affirming care for their trans children, echoing the violations queer people experienced when Davis was at the height of her activism. Just as the state once raided bars and hunted activists, it now seeks to control healthcare decisions for trans youth, turning medical care into a battleground.

Beyond her time as a fugitive, Davis’s broader work remains deeply relevant. In Are Prisons Obsolete? she critiques the prison system’s role in suppressing marginalized groups, including queer people. 

LGBTQ+ individuals are incarcerated at three times the rate of the general population, according to reports from organizations like the National Center for Transgender Equality and the American Bar Association. Additionally, around 16% of transgender people experience incarceration in their lifetimes — a figure that rises to 47% for Black transgender individuals.

These disparities reflect the broader systemic targeting of queer people and other marginalized groups. Today, as queer lives are criminalized and laws restricting rights are passed, the fight for justice Davis led is far from over — and this election will determine whether these injustices deepen or have any hope for. 

Angela Davis was captured in October 1970 after two months on the run. Her trial became a cause célèbre — a widely publicized case that sparked global support. During her 16-month incarceration, she became a symbol of resistance around the world. She was ultimately proven innocent and released from jail. Celebrities like John Lennon and Yoko Ono supported her, dedicating their song Angela to her struggle. It wasn’t just about defending herself against charges, but about challenging systemic racism and oppression.

Her trial drew attention to the misuse of the justice system to silence dissent. Today, women like Lizelle Herrera in Texas – who was arrested for allegedly performing a self-induced abortion – are similarly forced to defend themselves in court.

Today, queer people — especially transgender individuals — are now scapegoated as menaces to public safety through discriminatory laws. Lawmakers target them as a convenient distraction from deeper societal issues, framing their existence as a threat to traditional values to rally political opposition.

Kamala Harris is carrying on the fight. She may not be the same kind of radical revolutionary Davis embodied, but her presence in politics certainly signifies progress. Both women highlight the importance of visibility in the fight for justice, reminding us that representation is crucial for shaping a more inclusive future for all marginalized groups.

Davis’s dedication to dismantling racism, sexism, and homophobia highlights the interconnected nature of our fights, and she continues this work today by advocating for prison abolition through her involvement with Critical Resistance, an organization she co-founded to dismantle the prison-industrial complex, and speaking out against the criminalization of transgender people, as seen in her participation in events like the National Trans Visibility March. 

In a political climate where LGBTQ+ rights are under fire, her fearless activism should inspire us all to rise against injustice. This moment calls for us to embrace our identities boldly and to unite in solidarity. As we honor Davis’s legacy, let’s ensure our voices are heard — check your voter registration and make your impact on November 5th. 

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