After the ICE Raids, a New “Black Panther” Presence Emerges — and a Fight Over the Name

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# After the ICE Raids, a New “Black Panther” Presence Emerges — and a Fight Over the Name

On a cold January afternoon outside Philadelphia City Hall, the optics felt deliberately familiar: black berets, black jackets, a panther insignia, and a visible show of firearms. The men at the center of the scene said they were there for protection—standing with demonstrators furious over immigration raids and the killing of Renée Good in Minneapolis, a 37-year-old U.S. citizen shot by an ICE officer during an enforcement surge. ([Inquirer.com][1])

The moment traveled fast online, and the label traveled faster than the facts: *the Black Panthers are back.*

But what’s actually happening is more complicated than a comeback story—and the complications matter, because “Black Panther” is not just an aesthetic. It’s a historical organization with a specific legacy: armed self-defense tied to political discipline, and a vast infrastructure of survival programs that fed kids, staffed clinics, and made the state so nervous it set federal law enforcement on a decades-long campaign to destroy it. ([TIME][2])

## The flashpoint: Minneapolis, ICE, and the politics of “state violence”

The new wave of attention traces back to Minneapolis. On Jan. 7, 2026, Renée Nicole (Macklin) Good was fatally shot by ICE agent Jonathan Ross. Federal officials framed the shooting as self-defense; local and national reporting has described contested accounts, video evidence, and rapidly escalating political fallout. ([AP News][3])

The killing ignited protests far beyond Minnesota—especially in places where communities were already braced for an intensified immigration crackdown. In Philadelphia, vigils and rallies drew elected officials and grassroots groups, and the temperature rose: not only grief and rage, but the fear that federal power was becoming physically present in ordinary neighborhoods again. ([6abc Philadelphia][4])

That’s the environment in which a Philadelphia group calling itself the **Black Panther Party for Self-Defense** stepped forward in public, claiming a protective role at anti-ICE demonstrations. ([Inquirer.com][1])

## Who are the “Panthers” showing up in Philadelphia?

Reporting from *The Philadelphia Inquirer* and *theGrio* describes a group led by Paul Birdsong that has appeared at protests while openly carrying firearms (which members say is lawful), presenting itself as community security and deterrence. ([Inquirer.com][1])

The same reporting also points to something less viral but more consequential: the group says it has been running regular free food programs in North Philadelphia for years—mutual aid that mirrors the original Panthers’ emphasis on “survival programs.” ([Inquirer.com][1])

After questions about legitimacy spread online, Birdsong publicly invited skeptics to meet the group and claimed “original” Panthers would attend a community event to vouch for them—an implicit acknowledgment that, in 2026, authenticity isn’t declared by a logo. It’s argued, tested, and contested. ([TheGrio][5])

## Are they “really” the Black Panthers?

If the question is **“Are they the same organization founded in 1966?”** the honest answer is: not in any straightforward legal or historical sense.

The original **Black Panther Party for Self-Defense** was founded in Oakland by Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale in 1966, with a specific platform and structure that rose rapidly and then fractured under internal conflict and sustained state repression. ([TIME][2])

So what does “real” mean now?

In practice, “real” tends to break into three tests:

1. **Lineage:** Do verified elders of the original organization recognize or guide them?

2. **Continuity of mission:** Do they practice a modern version of political education + survival programs—not just symbolism?

3. **Accountability:** Are they transparent about leadership, funding, conduct standards, and relationships with the broader community?

On #1, the Philadelphia group claims elder guidance, and says it will demonstrate that publicly. ([TheGrio][5])

On #2, there are reported mutual-aid activities, though the depth and scale are hard to independently verify from viral clips alone. ([Inquirer.com][1])

On #3, the scrutiny is just beginning, because the name “Black Panther” attracts both supporters and opportunists.

Which brings us to the biggest trap in this whole conversation: not every “Panther” is a Panther.

## The impostor problem: “New Black Panther Party” vs. the historical Panthers

For decades, groups have borrowed the name, imagery, and intimidation factor of the Panthers—sometimes while rejecting the original ideology and discipline.

The **New Black Panther Party (NBPP)** is the most famous example. Multiple sources describe it as **separate from the original Panthers** and widely condemned as extremist; Bobby Seale has publicly dismissed it, and major watchdog organizations have described it as racist and antisemitic. ([TIME][6])

That distinction matters because casual media coverage often blurs it—turning “Panther” into a vague word for any Black militant aesthetic. The result is confusion that harms everyone: it muddies the historical record, gives fringe groups borrowed legitimacy, and lets critics smear the original Panthers by pointing to unaffiliated actors. ([Vox][7])

## The legacy: what the Panthers actually did (and why the state feared them)

The shorthand version of the Panthers—“guns and anger”—is incomplete.

Yes, armed self-defense was central early on: Panthers patrolled police, cited the law, and used visibility to challenge the assumption that only the state could carry force in Black neighborhoods. Their armed protest at the California state capitol in 1967 helped accelerate gun-control backlash that targeted them directly. ([TIME][6])

But their deeper legacy is **infrastructure**:

* **Free Breakfast for Children** programs that fed students before school—one of the most iconic “survival programs.”

* **Community health clinics** and preventative care: historians note clinics operating in multiple cities, staffed by volunteers, built around distrust of discriminatory medical systems. ([TIME][2])

* **Political education** and coalition-building: the Panthers weren’t only “Black nationalist”; they often framed themselves as internationalist and sought alliances with other oppressed groups (even as debates about ideology raged inside the party). ([TIME][2])

And then there’s the shadow legacy: repression.

The FBI’s COINTELPRO program explicitly targeted the Black Panther Party as part of a broader domestic counterintelligence effort; COINTELPRO is now widely criticized for violating civil liberties, and the FBI’s own historical record acknowledges the program’s scope and end date (1971). ([FBI][8])

So when people argue about “Panther violence,” they often skip the full context: violence also came **from the state**—surveillance, infiltration, raids, and lethal encounters that shaped how the Panthers operated and how the public remembers them. ([TIME][2])

## Why the “Panther” image returns in 2026

When federal enforcement feels omnipresent—raids, tactical teams, expanding “surge” language—some communities look for *deterrence*, not just protest. That impulse is showing up in the wake of Minneapolis, and Philadelphia is the clearest, most documented example so far of a group using the Panther brand to offer that deterrence in public. ([Inquirer.com][1])

But there’s an unavoidable tension: **an armed protective posture can deter harm—or it can escalate it.** The original Panthers were obsessed with discipline because they understood the state was waiting for a pretext. Today’s would-be successors face the same dilemma, intensified by smartphones, polarization, and algorithms that reward confrontation over community work.

## So what should we call this moment?

“Resurgence” is partly accurate and partly misleading.

* It’s accurate in the sense that **Panther-style language is re-entering public life**, attached to mutual aid and self-defense claims, in response to ICE activity and a high-profile killing. ([Inquirer.com][1])

* It’s misleading if it suggests the original 1966 organization has simply returned intact. History doesn’t reboot that cleanly, and the “Panther” name has been fought over for years—often because original Panthers and legacy organizations insist that “new” groups are not automatically legitimate. ([TIME][6])

The more precise way to describe what’s happening is this:

A crisis around immigration enforcement—and a contested killing tied to it—has created space for groups to reassert a politics of armed community defense under the most powerful brand Black radicalism ever produced. Whether any of those groups deserve the name, in the historical sense, will depend less on what they wear and more on what they build: food lines, clinics, legal support, political education, coalition ties, and an ethic disciplined enough to survive the spotlight.