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(TOWSON, MD – August 12, 2026) – In Baltimore County, Maryland, the Black or African American population (non-Hispanic) is approximately 29.8% — nearly one-third of the county. Two of the county’s seven council districts are now majority Black. These numbers matter, because history shows that when Black political power is concentrated, the system will adjust itself to contain it — unless we stay awake.
Which brings us to Baltimore County Inspector General Kelly Madigan. Since her appointment in January 2020, I have been told by multiple county employees — more than just a few — that they fear her. Not the kind of “she’s tough but fair” respect, but the daily anxiety of feeling targeted. Madigan has a reputation for “going after” certain people, and the question being asked quietly — and sometimes loudly — is whether she’s a weaponized bully with her eyes on specific individuals. In a county with Baltimore’s history, who she focuses on and why is not a small matter.
But this is not just about elections — it’s about patterns. Baltimore County has a long history of sidelining its Black leaders when they push too hard or rise too high. Consider the last superintendents of Baltimore County Public Schools who were Black: Dr. Joe A. Hairston, Dr. S. Dallas Dance, Verletta White, and Dr. Darryl L. Williams — all gone under clouds or political pressure. Add to that how Damon Hughes, a strong advocate for Black-owned businesses, was pushed aside, or how Pleasant Yacht Club, a historic Black institution, was nearly destroyed in a dredging fight with Tradepoint Atlantic until last-minute budget language saved it — along with the white yacht club next door. The Black club’s advocacy saved the white club in the process. Go figure!
And we cannot forget the pain and cost of tragedy. Baltimore County paid out millions to settle the killing of Korryn Gaines, the 23-year-old Black mother shot in her own home by police in front of her child. The county also paid after police left a Black grandmother badly injured during an encounter that should never have escalated.
These wounds are generational, but they also tie into today’s political realities. We must remember the towering figures who built the foundation for Black political power in the county — leaders like Dr. Ella White Campbell, who fought tirelessly for education, equity, and resources for Black communities, and Senator Delores Kelley, who spent nearly three decades shaping Maryland law and mentoring the leaders of today, including House Speaker Adrienne Jones. These women were more than elected officials — they were protectors of the community’s political capital.
That capital is now under threat in Baltimore County. Redistricting is underway, and while the new plan proposes two majority-Black districts, we’ve already seen how quickly political maps can be drawn to dilute Black power. Look no further than Baltimore City’s 41st District. Once a stronghold of Black political leadership, it changed overnight when lines were redrawn — and now, what was once secure is in jeopardy.
If Baltimore County’s Black community isn’t paying attention, the same thing can happen here.
And yet, time and again, there’s a pattern too familiar to ignore: Black leaders, institutions, and voices are celebrated when convenient — but investigated, displaced, or dismantled when they stand too firm.
This isn’t about one officeholder, one inspector general, or one election. It’s about whether Baltimore County will continue a quiet tradition of undermining Black political and economic power while benefiting from Black tax dollars, culture, and labor. The June 2026 election is still far off, but the groundwork is being laid now.
The question is — are we watching closely enough to see it?
