Decades after her act of defiance, Rosa Parks galvanized a cadre of activists to protest their own conditions and, though the scope of her legacy for them is still coming into focus, it remains just as powerful.

They were fighting for disability access, and, like Parks, they used public transportation as a springboard.

The disability rights movement took shape against the backdrop of the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s, growing in size with each passing year. By the 1980s, it had made strides, successfully passing legislation and increasing the visibility of people living with disabilities.

But on roads and rails, small advances made in bus accessibility throughout the years did little to meet the needs of commuters with disabilities, whose use of public transportation was severely limited. Oftentimes, they were relegated to using separate services entirely, relying on transit services such as Dial-a-Ride, which required passengers to request a pickup and were frequently unreliable.

In 1984, something changed. In Chicago, about a dozen wheelchair-bound activists from the disability rights group ADAPT placed themselves in front of city buses to protest the Chicago Transit Authority’s decision to purchase more than 350 buses — none of which were accessible to them due to the city’s refusal to pay for wheelchair lifts.

The demonstration was reminiscent of Parks’ own protest that had taken place more than 700 miles south and nearly 30 years prior, when she refused to vacate her seat for a White passenger. As law enforcement officers arrived at the scene, a single sentence was emblazoned on each of the protesters’ name tags: “My name is Rosa Parks.”