A lot has been written in the past few days about Senator Lidia Thorpe and her courageous act of speaking truth to power when she confronted coloniser, King Charles, in the colonial halls of Parliament. Yet amidst the commentary, one voice remains absent: the voice of the criminalised community. As a formerly incarcerated woman, I want to tell you what Lidia means to me, because as a leader, she embodies loyalty, bravery, and an unshakable commitment to pursuing justice for our community. In Lidia, I see a leader who has never wavered in her support for our struggles—a fearless advocate who stands with us when few others will.

Politicians and prisoners have long been bedfellows—not in any way that leads to liberation for the prisoner, but rather in how politicians exploit our existence. They don’t tolerate us; in fact, they revel in locking us away, hidden from society, and throwing away the key. What they truly love is using us as political fodder to gain votes, crafting “tough on crime” narratives that stoke fear in their electorates. Through their legislative power, they incarcerate us, not for the sake of justice or safety, but to strengthen their grip on political control. We become pawns in their cynical game, a way to whip up hysteria about so called crime waves that supposedly justify their interventions. We only have to look at the current Queensland election and the LNP’s scare campaign demonising our youth and whipping up a phoney “youth crime” crisis.

In Lidia, we have found a passionate and unwavering advocate—someone who doesn’t just listen to us in a cursory or patronising way, but truly seeks to understand the deep and complex issues our community faces. Lidia has given us a voice in spaces where we are often silenced. She has invited us into parliament, hosting roundtables where she brings other parliamentarians face to face with our realities, forcing them to confront the injustices we endure. She doesn’t just speak for us; she stands with us and alongside us. Lidia is committed to ensuring that our voices, the voices of the criminalised and marginalised, are not only heard but are central to the conversation. She gives us a seat at the table, reminding the powerful that we are here, and we demand justice.

It’s not always popular to stand with criminalised people. Supporting those of us who have been to prison is rarely a winning electoral strategy, because in the eyes of the public and politicians alike, we are often treated as disposable. Society tends to view us through a lens of stigma and shame, dismissing our humanity and ignoring the systemic injustices that led to our incarceration. Standing with us is seen as a risk—politically inconvenient and unpopular. Yet, Lidia has never shied away from this challenge. She recognises our worth, refuses to see us as throwaways, and understands that real justice requires standing with those most marginalised, even when it’s not politically advantageous.

In her role as Senator, Lidia has been a tireless advocate for us in federal parliament, using her platform to expose the ongoing injustices we face. One of her critical contributions was pushing for a Senate inquiry into the genocide of First Nations people, highlighting the systemic violence inherent in Australia’s criminal legal system. She also fought to ensure that miscarriages and deaths resulting from inadequate medical care, including those in custody, are counted in official deaths in custody data—an essential step in confronting the full scale of harm faced by our community. Through these efforts, Lidia has consistently amplified the voices of the criminalised and incarcerated, ensuring that their suffering and struggles are not erased from the national conversation.

In addition to her work on the genocide inquiry and ensuring miscarriages are counted in deaths in custody data, Senator Lidia Thorpe has taken several other significant actions for people in prison. She has called for the abolition of youth prisons, advocating for community-led alternatives that address the root causes of crime rather than perpetuating cycles of incarceration. Lidia has consistently spoken out against the over-policing and criminalisation of Aboriginal people, particularly women and children, demanding a halt to laws and policies that disproportionately harm these communities. She has also been a vocal critic of the prison-industrial complex, calling attention to the profit motives behind private prisons and the need for a justice system that prioritises rehabilitation and healing over punishment. Through her parliamentary work, Lidia has continually fought for the decarceration of vulnerable communities and for meaningful reforms that address the injustices entrenched in Australia’s prison system.

Lidia has been a fierce advocate for addressing the crisis of disappeared and murdered Indigenous women in Australia, bringing attention to an issue that has long been ignored by the mainstream. She called for a national inquiry into the epidemic of violence faced by Aboriginal women, insisting that the government take serious steps to investigate and end the systemic neglect and abuse that have allowed these tragedies to continue. Lidia has consistently highlighted how colonialism, racism, and patriarchy intersect to disproportionately harm Indigenous women, leaving them vulnerable to violence, disappearance, and death. By raising these issues in parliament, she has forced the nation to confront the horrifying reality of how many Indigenous women are failed by both the justice system and society at large. Her advocacy is deeply rooted in the lived experiences of Aboriginal women, ensuring that their voices are heard in the fight for justice and systemic change.

This is who Lidia is – a fearless protector of her people. A fearless representative. A Senator that does what she says she will and stands by her word, even when it’s not popular to do so. Even when it has taken a personal toll on her. Even when it feels like half the country is against her.

And sure, Lidia is angry—hell, I’m angry too. But the issue isn’t Lidia’s anger; the real problem is that the rest of you aren’t angry enough. Lidia’s anger is not something to pathologise; it’s a righteous response to the injustices she’s fighting against. She’s doing her job, representing her community, and calling out the violence and oppression our people face every day. Instead of focusing on her anger, we should be turning the mirror on the state and asking why it continues to perpetuate extreme levels of violence on certain sections of our community. The real outrage should be directed at the systems that incarcerate, disappear, and kill our people, not at those like Lidia who are brave enough to speak out against it.

I stand with Lidia because Lidia never abandons us. She is of the people, for the people, and she stands with her people, no matter the cost. Lidia doesn’t just speak for us from a distance—she lives with us, fights alongside us, and feels the weight of our struggles. In a world where so many leaders turn their backs on the most marginalised, Lidia stays rooted in her community, refusing to leave anyone behind. Her strength, her loyalty, and her unwavering commitment to justice show us what true leadership looks like. She is of the people because she never forgets her people. And for that, I stand with her. Always.