Angela Davis’ fight is far from over. It’s time we all joined them.

Angela Davis was on the run, sneaking through cities in wigs and disguises as a drag queen, changing 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 up to a system that sought to silence her.

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

Davis grew up in the heart of the Jim Crow South: Montgomery, Alabama, a hotbed of 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 black girls. She heard Bull Connor, Birmingham’s notorious segregationist police chief, on the radio, shouting the same kind of hateful rhetoric we hear today from Donald Trump — both using fear and division to stoke hatred.

Confronting this kind of bigotry at a young age fueled Davis’ resolve and ultimately led her to take on the system and go on the run from the FBI. Opposing institutional racism, government oppression, police brutality, and an unjust criminal justice system, she had been linked to an attempt to free three black inmates who had been accused of murdering a 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 who were using guns that Davis had legally purchased. That connection led the state to target Davis, charging her with the ensuing violent exchange that resulted in the deaths of the judge, Jackson, and two of the prisoners.

Although Davis was not directly involved in the act, her support of revolutionary causes and her purchase of firearms made her a target. Her iconic Afro – a bold symbol of black resistance – became a powerful image that inspired her supporters, but made her the perfect scapegoat for an audience entrenched in racism, sexism and homophobia.

At the time, buying guns for self-defense or resistance was not uncommon, especially for those fighting against systemic oppression—even within queer movements. Organizations such as the Gay Liberation Front and Radical Faeries have recognized that violence against marginalized groups demands a strong response.

Davis’ time on the run was filled with close calls, such as when the FBI stormed her New York hotel room just hours after she escaped, tipped off about their closeness. The shooting happened in the same city where just a year earlier, LGBTQ+ people instigated the Stonewall Riot to resist police raids on queer bars.

Davis faced state violence for both her activism and her identity as a black queer woman, much like trans children today, who are targeted by discriminatory laws and government surveillance. Today’s GOP-led states are trying to monitor parents who seek 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 has raided bars and hunted down activists, it is now trying to control health care decisions for trans youth, turning health care into a battleground.

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

LGBTQ+ people are incarcerated at three times the rate of the general population, according to reports from organizations such as the National Center for Transgender Equality and the American Bar Association. Additionally, approximately 16 percent of transgender people experience lifetime incarceration—a figure that rises to 47 percent for transgender people of color.

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

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 months in prison, she became a symbol of resistance around the world. She was eventually proven innocent and released from prison. Celebrities such as John Lennon and Yoko Ono supported her, dedicating the song to her Angela to her fight. It wasn’t just about defending against accusations, it was 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 of Texas—who was arrested for allegedly performing a self-induced abortion—are similarly forced to defend themselves in court.

Today, queer people—particularly transgender people—are now scapegoated as threats to public safety through discriminatory laws. Lawmakers target them as a convenient distraction from deeper societal problems, framing their existence as a threat to traditional values in order to rally political opposition.

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

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

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

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