Angela Davis, the veteran American philosopher, writer, activist, feminist icon and symbol of Black liberation struggles, made the French headlines briefly last year. The council for the greater Paris region, the Île-de-France, took the decision to rename a high school in Saint-Denis, a Paris banlieue, which had been named the Lycée Angela Davis since shortly after it opened in 2017. Why the sudden downgrading of Davis six years after being honoured as an important figure who had contributed exceptional service to humanity? It turned out that in 2021, Davis had cosigned an open letter that condemned the “colonial mentality” of “France’s governance structures”, quoting measures such as “the law against wearing the headscarf”. This, according to Valérie Pécresse, the rightwing politician who runs the Paris region – and who noticed the letter two years later – was “against the laws of our republic”. The figure ultimately chosen to be honoured by the renamed school was Rosa Parks, which says a lot about how France is unable to celebrate its own Black figures. To many in France, Parks was a passive Black woman who remained seated in her place in a bus. Very few know that she was an activist who intentionally started a major anti-segregationist social movement. Asked about the matter in an interview on French radio in November, Davis said she did not subscribe to the simplistic opposition between the kind and inoffensive Black lady versus the dangerous activist. In a response that contrasted her stature and dignity with the French right’s small-mindedness and ignorance, she recalled that Parks had herself taken part in the “Free Angela” campaign after Davis was jailed in 1970 for crimes she didn’t commit. The controversy is a great reminder of how effectively Davis still speaks truth to power and how she has retained her ability to get up the nose of conservative governments. Davis turns 80 on 26 January, and although she became a symbol of civil rights activism more than 60 years ago, she remains, for me, the global figure whose ideas are still among the most radical and relevant for our time. Davis was already a brilliant young scholar and author in the US when she gained international prominence in 1970 after being falsely accused of criminal conspiracy and going on the run. She was charged with the murder of a judge and five counts of kidnapping and became one of the FBI’s 10 most-wanted fugitives. Davis never stopped insisting on her innocence, arguing that she had been targeted for her political beliefs. She was eventually acquitted in 1972, but her trial drew global attention and support. In France, huge crowds of protesters gathered in her support, led by prominent intellectuals such as Louis Aragon. Since then she has been the symbol of many struggles for emancipation worldwide. The afro hair and and miniskirt that defined her 1970s look made her a recognisable international figure: her face is still printed on T-shirts and posters. But she is more than the story of an FBI chase that has been told over and over. She could be a legend, stuck in history and idealised for her past accomplishments, but she remains an inspiration, always at the forefront of current issues. Davis’s time in prison led her to reflect deeply on the US penal system, its links to industrial capitalism and systemic historical injustices. She has always thought about her home country from the perspective of global colonialism. Davis has never failed to address Palestine in her speeches: for decades, she has been a tireless advocate for the struggles of Palestinians and against their intolerable colonial oppression. I remember seeing her speak in Paris in 2013, when she was already calling Gaza “the largest open-air prison in the world”. Her commitment to radical feminism translates into an indefatigable emphasis on the inclusion of all women. At a conference in 2018 in the banlieues of Paris, I heard her thoughtful reminder: “There can be no racial justice, there can be no peace, there can be no economic justice, unless we forthrightly insist on gender justice.” Not only does Davis place gender equality at the heart of all struggles, she consistently and explicitly includes every woman who identifies as a woman. In France, she understands how our secularism (laïcité) has been weaponised to target Muslims, especially Muslim women. Her research on systemic violence naturally led her to question the relationships between humans and other living beings, and the impact of species destruction. She is vegan, but says: “You don’t have to be a vegan to be opposed to the systematic abuse of animals, which I think is very much related to the abuse of human animals.” She critiques the way in which capitalism encourages the prioritisation of profit over all else, which justifies the mistreatment ofanimals to produce meat. The current massacre taking place in Palestine, the global Black Lives Matter and #MeToo movements, the erosion of women’s rights in the US and the devastation of so much of the natural world highlight the ongoing importance of the campaigning work she has been doing for decades. I met Davis in person in Paris a few months ago. It was not the first time: I was lucky enough to have interviewed her at her home in Washington DC earlier last year after an event at Georgetown University, where I am a researcher. Every time I see her, I am again amazed by the relevance of her perspective on the world. Davis’s courage in risking her life for her ideas is an inspiration – as is her refusal ever to become complacent about her position. Rather than become an “icon”, she has remained true to her intellectual integrity while always seeking to understand younger generations’ struggles and to defend the most oppressed. Perhaps every town should have a school named after Angela Davis. Rokhaya Diallo is a Guardian Europe columnist