Now and then, we still see the Amish horse and buggy tooling its way down Fairview Road. Occasionally, someone will alert their neighbors in a Facebook post that a cow or a horse has escaped a pasture and is blocking the road. “That’s so Glenmoore,” a local resident will chime in nostalgically.
But Glenmoore, like the rest of America, is changing, in ways both obvious and subtle.
It’s rare now to see a horse travel down a road that has a steady flow of traffic. Where cows once used to escape to sip the water of the branch of the Brandywine Creek that flows through the part of town residents call “the village,” you can look up a hill and see the large homes of the newest development, just one in an array of luxury homes built on the hill.
Don’t get me wrong. Wallace Township (the Glenmoore postal area is significantly larger) is still pretty amazing. It’s Glen Moore Fire Co. members lined up in a row at a funeral inside one of our historic churches to honor the wife of a longtime member. It’s Pete the cat walking his people to the elementary school on days when it’s in session. Some of my best friends are people I’ve met on walks, often punctuated with a stop at the village coffee shop, the Mean Bean.
The Chester County poll book debacle in the Nov. 4 election didn’t help nurture a sense of calm about something many of us had taken for granted — the sanctity of our vote. In case somehow you missed the hubbub, when independent and third-party voters (there are approximately 18% of us) got to the polling place, we were told that, because they hadn’t gotten the right poll books for us, most of us would have to cast provisional ballots.
I was aware of others in my position. We kept checking to see if our vote showed up on the Voter Services website. As of last Monday, resident Dorothy Kirk, an independent, said, “I am skeptical that our votes were counted.” It took almost 15 days to register Kirk and her husband’s votes on the Voter Services website.
Unlike some other townships in our environs, which have become increasingly blue, Wallace voters are registered as more than 50% Republican, and have been for many years.
This year, we already had more of a local stress test: a competitive race for one seat in the three-member board of supervisors — replete with candidate websites, campaign literature, and canvassing. That’s a lot of drama for our relatively small (less than 3,000 registered voters) township.
Call me naive, but knowing the local judge of elections, I had confidence my vote would count.
But it wasn’t long before I started to hear from other residents. Let’s just say, they had questions.
Tish Molloy, a former Wallace poll worker, spent a few hours observing the ballot certification process in West Chester after the election, curious to see how it was done. Though onlookers could not see everything, she said, the workers seemed to be “careful, cautious, and mindful,” as well as efficient.
Though Wallace Supervisor Rob Jones, serving as a Republican, had some pointed comments about the potential for mismanagement at the county level, he said he didn’t think anything “nefarious” had occurred. “I just think we have a basically honest populations out there,” said Jones. “I do think the county learned a lesson.”
As for the township? Jones was ready to move on from what was a fairly heated campaign by Wallace standards, urging neighbors in this small community to avoid viewing each other through a political lens. “The way you show love for people with your township is through what you do. When I make a decision [about the township], I don’t care what their party is. How can I bless the most people in the township?”
Though he came closer than other Democratic candidates in recent memory, Andrew Holets conceded the supervisor’s race to Republican candidate John Thomas last Friday evening. Perhaps it’s not surprising, in a town where so many people know and depend on each other, that his vision is similar to that espoused by Jones. Building trust isn’t just up to leadership, he said. It’s about practicing kindness and doing the right thing.
“Everybody has responsibility,” said Holets. “How they wake up and how they spend their day makes a difference in how much we care for ourselves and others. I don’t want to buy into the division that seems to be here in our country. I don’t think we need to have that locally.”
Nonetheless …
The bonds of mutual trust and affection are still pretty strong around here. At the same time, it’s hard not to wonder what else could go wrong, and it’sarrogant to think ourselves immune from the polarization that has divided neighbor from neighbor and family from family.
While it’s up to Chester County to rectify its mistake, the future of our community is also, as both Jones and Holets said, in our hands. We can’t afford to assume our neighbors trust us. We have to renew those bonds together, one act of service, citizenship, and kindness at a time.
We’ve had our shot across the bows. Now it’s up to us to make sure we get safely to harbor. The cost of drifting is way, way too high.
Elizabeth Eisenstadt Evans is a freelance journalist in Chester County. Her writing has appeared in Religion News Service, the National Catholic Reporter, Sojourners, Christian Century, the Washington Post, and The Inquirer.
Mellisa Wilson had been working hard — so, so hard — to change the trajectory of violence that marked her life and the lives of her five children when she saw something that broke her heart.
Her youngest daughter was putting her baby doll to bed, “and she was hitting it,” Wilson said, choking back tears. “That’s when I knew it was really bad. That’s when I knew that wasn’t what I wanted them to take from me,” as a parent.
And so, Wilson did what she had done many times before.
She turned to the Children’s Crisis Treatment Center (CCTC) for help.
In schools, homes, and community centers in Philadelphia, Montgomery County, and Camden, CCTC provides trauma-informed care annually to over 3,500 children, up to age 18, suffering from behavioral issues, depression, and trauma, helping their families in the process.
“I knew I had to do something different,” Wilson said.
Wilson, a CCTC volunteer and a member of the center’s parent advisory council, had been bringing her children to CCTC, a nonprofit children’s mental health agency, for 20 years.
With all the counseling she and her children have received, she could easily give the same talking points as CCTC’s chief executive officer, Antonio Valdés.
And she did.
It may take years, she said, but when a child experiences trauma, at some point, sooner or later, there will likely be a behavioral issue.
Wilson said she grew up in a home where she was regularly beaten with a broom handle or an extension cord. “Those were my grandmother’s favorites.” The trauma repeated itself across the generations when she became a mother.
Mellisa Wilson, who now volunteers at the Children’s Crisis Treatment Center, said the group helped her realize she needed to end a generational legacy of corporal punishment as a parent.
Always angry, she yelled at her children and spanked them, but only with her hands — at least she could give them that safety.
But all of it had to end — for her own good, and for theirs. So she turned to CCTC for help.
It’s a typical pattern, said Valdés.
CCTC treats children who have experienced every kind of trauma and adversity — death of a parent, witnessing a parent be killed or beaten, attacks from dogs, sexual abuse, neighborhood violence.
“We treat kids no matter what trauma they have,” he said. “For the vast majority, we’re talking about domestic violence, toward them or a family member, or maybe shootings they have witnessed.”
But what’s just as significant, he said, is how CCTC treats everyone in its care. “It’s the lens we use,” he said, describing trauma-informed care. “We don’t ask what’s wrong with a child. We asked what happened.”
For example, Valdés said, a young boy, maybe 5, sees his mother regularly beaten by her drunken boyfriend. “The kid may even try to intervene, but he’s only 5. What can he do?”
Eventually, the mother gets rid of the drunken boyfriend. All seems normal until months or even years later, when she gets calls from school. Her child is fighting, destroying school property.
“He’s still reacting to what he witnessed, and the behavior he developed at that time,” when he understood, as only a little child can, that his mother, the person who was supposed to be protecting him, couldn’t keep him, or herself, safe, Valdés said.
Says Antonio Valdés, chief executive officer of the Children’s Crisis Treatment Center: “We don’t ask what’s wrong with a child. We asked what happened.”
“Any moment he might feel even a little threatened evokes that response,” he said.
“There’s a mistaken belief that young children, when they experience trauma, they’ll get over it,” Valdés said. “When trauma and adversity happen, there are normal consequences. It’s not normal for the kid to be OK.”
Some parents bring their children to CCTC for counseling, or they get referrals from schools. More help, including a summer camp, is available at satellite community centers.
At its headquarters on Delaware Avenue in Fishtown, CCTC runs a day treatment program for preschool-age children who have been kicked out of their preschools. There are day programs for children who have been discharged from psychiatric hospitals to help them reacclimate before returning to their schools.
CCTC also provides behavioral health help at over 40 middle and elementary schools, where CCTC staffers work with teachers and students.
Valdés remembered one little boy, about 10 or 11, who had been an average student — no trouble in school. His mother worked two jobs to make ends meet, and his grandfather took care of him, fed him dinner, helped with homework, and even put him to bed when his mom worked late.
One Monday, the boy didn’t come to school — and it was so unusual that counselors reached out. On Tuesday, he did show up and, within hours, was fighting with kids and teachers. “They had already written up detention slips,” and it was so bad that harsher punishments were on the table.
But then a counselor who had been trained by CCTC recalled what she had learned and asked the boy what happened. His grandfather had passed away on Saturday, and his mother had to go to work so she could pay the rent, leaving him to fend for himself.
“In five minutes, they tore up the detention slips and had a different kind of conversation. It could have turned into something really bad for that boy. It’s those little moments that are critical,” Valdés said.
In Philadelphia, he said, children in Kensington are suffering from the opioid crisis. When children leave the house, they see people shooting up and have to step carefully to avoid human feces or used needles. It’s not safe to play on the sidewalks or in the parks.
“All of these things add up to a stressful environment,” he said. “There’s an impact of trauma and adversity on the way people start treating each other. It’s a behavior that’s adaptive to the trauma, the crisis, the ugliness,” but may not show up until later.
“It’s highly contagious. Certain kinds of maladaptive behaviors may find themselves in families, in communities, in workplaces, or the way you might treat your girlfriend or wife,” Valdés said. “These behaviors were critical in surviving the moment,” but aren’t useful or appropriate in other situations.
Healing comes from reframing — acknowledging realities but assuring the children that what happened was not normal and not their fault, then giving them techniques to cope positively when disturbing feelings arise, he said.
“We’re treating kids and families, and we’re helping them heal,” he said. “Then they start to support their siblings or neighbors who have been through trauma. We see this as the counter to adversity and trauma.”
Parenting skills Wilson learned at CCTC helped her help her children and regain control of her family, even as she was struggling to manage five youngsters under 5, including a set of twins.
One child was inappropriately touched. Another child pushed Wilson against a wall and accused her of driving their father away. Another child, always her father’s favorite, said her father hated her. Another child hit a kitten.
Tears filled Wilson’s eyes. “That was the trauma I put on them by hitting them and yelling at them.”
Chaos and fatigue were constant, as was anger, yelling, and spanking. At CCTC, her kids got help, and so did she, learning new parenting techniques that led to a peaceful home with five children, now in their 20s and heading into professions to help others.
Valdés said people should support CCTC because that healing is contagious, mending families and neighborhoods.
Wilson agrees. “What I’ve learned, I’ve put into practice,” she said.
Her story is so compelling, she said, that people at her overnight warehouse packing job turn to her for help. And she’s always ready to give it.
“My favorite place is on the bus,” she said, where she’ll say hello and ask her fellow passengers about their day. “People will start talking to me. People are very honest when they think they are never going to see you again.”
When Wilson wears her CCTC T-shirt as she often does, she wants to serve as a walking billboard for a nonprofit that has made a real difference in herself and her family. She vows to support the organization and its mission for the rest of her life.
“We shouldn’t keep good things to ourselves.”
This article is part of a series about Philly Gives — a community fund to support nonprofits through end-of-year giving. To learn more about Philly Gives, including how to donate, visit phillygives.org.
For more information about Philly Gives, including how to donate, visit phillygives.org.
About Children’s Crisis Treatment Center
Mission: To support children and families by helping them heal from abuse, violence, and trauma by bringing mental health services to them where they are — at home, in schools, and in their communities.
Children served: 3,500
Point of pride: Started as a demonstration project in the basement of the Franklin Institute and is now in over 40 schools, up from 14 last year.
Annual spending: Over $31 million in fiscal year 2024.
You can help: Volunteers are needed to help with special events, the Holiday Toy Drive, or group day-of-service activities.
Art matters. And because it does, artists and art institutions have been targets of authoritarian regimes from Red Square to Tiananmen Square. Black Lives Matter Plaza, located near the White House, was removed in March. That same month, President Donald Trump issued an executive order targeting the Smithsonian Institution and interpretive signs at National Park Service sites, including the President’s House.
Paul Robeson, athlete, singer, actor, and human rights activist, lived his final years in West Philadelphia. At a protest rally in London in 1937, Robeson said: “The artist must elect to fight for freedom or for slavery. I have made my choice. I had no alternative.”
With democracy nowunder assault, “Fall of Freedom,” a national artist-led protest, hasissued a call for creative resistance, of actions against authoritarian control and censorship, to take place in venues nationwide beginning Friday.
“Fall of Freedom is an urgent reminder that our stories and our art are not luxuries, but essential tools of resistance,” Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Lynn Nottage wrote in a statement. “When we gather in theaters and public spaces, we are affirming our humanity and our right to imagine a more just future.”
Creative resistance is as American as apple pie, and this city is, after all, the birthplace of our democracy.
The political cartoon “Join, or Die,” published in 1754 in the Pennsylvania Gazette, became a symbol of the American Revolution and stoked public opinion against Britain.
During his tenure as president of the Pennsylvania Abolition Society, Benjamin Franklin helped distribute Josiah Wedgwood’s anti-slavery medallion “Am I Not a Man and a Brother.” In a letter to Wedgwood, Franklin wrote, “I am persuaded [the medallion] may have an Effect equal to that of the best written Pamphlet in procuring favour to those oppressed people.”
Wedgewood medallion with the words “Am I not a man and a brother” in relief along the edge, ca. 1780s, from the collection of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The museum’s education materials on the medallion stipulate that it was “modeled by William Hackwood and fabricated by Josiah Wedgwood in England in 1787 for the Society for Effecting the Abolition of the Slave Trade, this medallion functioned as a potent political emblem for promoting the abolition of slavery. It reached the United States in 1788, when Wedgwood sent a batch to Philadelphia for former enslaver and ‘cautious abolitionist’ Benjamin Franklin to distribute.”
And indeed it did. Wedgwood’s engraving became the iconic image of the anti-slavery movement. It was printed on broadsides, snuffboxes, decorative objects, and household items. Abolitionist art was part of domestic life in Philadelphia.
The American Anti-Slavery Society, whose founding members included Philadelphians James Forten, Lucretia Mott, and Robert Purvis, commissioned a copper token featuring a related “Am I Not a Woman and a Sister” design. Proceeds from the sale of the token were used to fund the abolition movement.
Abolitionists used art to create a visual language of freedom. Artists created illustrations and paintings that showed “how bad slavery was.” There were theatrical performances and public readings of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the best-selling novel of the 19th century.
Robert Douglass Jr. studied at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. He is considered Philadelphia’s first African American photographer. Active with the National Colored Conventions movement, Douglass created a counternarrative to derogatory racial stereotypes. His daguerreotype of Francis “Frank” Johnson, a forefather of jazz, is in the collection of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania.
On the heels of the Jazz Age, a group of religious activists formed the Young People’s Interracial Fellowship in North Philadelphia in 1931. The fellowship brought together Black and white congregations for dialogue, cultural exchange, and joint activism.
A 1944 seder at Fellowship House.
In 1941, the organization evolved into Fellowship House, whose mission was to resist racial discrimination through education, cultural programs, and community organizing.
Notable cultural figures who spoke at Fellowship House include Marian Anderson, Dave Brubeck, and Robeson. In April 1945, seven months before the release of the short film The House I Live In, Frank Sinatra, the film’s star, stopped by Fellowship House to speak about the importance of racial tolerance. He told the young people that “disunity only helps the enemy.”
The film’s title song, an anti-racism patriotic anthem, became one of Sinatra’s signature songs.
Abel Meeropol, an educator, poet, and songwriter, composed both the film’s title song, “The House I Live In,” and the anti-lynching poem and song, “Strange Fruit,” which would become inextricably associated with one of Philadelphia’s jazz greats.
Born on April 7, 1915, at Philadelphia General Hospital in West Philly, Billie Holiday, née Eleanora Fagan, is one of the greatest jazz singers of all time.
No artist has met the moment with more courage than Lady Day, whose 1939 recording of “Strange Fruit” was named song of the century by Time magazine in 1999, and was added to the National Recording Registry in 2002.
“Strange Fruit” is a timeless and empowering act of creative resistance.
While Holiday is sui generis, jazz musicians were the vanguard of the civil rights movement.
At so-called black and tan clubs like the Down Beat and the Blue Note, Black and white people intermingled on an equal basis for the first time.
Billie Holiday leaving City Hall in 1956 after her release following a drug bust. Police Capt. Clarence Ferguson walks behind her.
Jazz clubs were constantly harassed by Philadelphia police led by vice squad Capt. Clarence Ferguson and his protégé, Inspector Frank Rizzo. The nightspots became battlegrounds in the struggle for racial justice. Jazz musicians’ unbowed demeanor fashioned a new racial identity.
In remarks to the 1964 Berlin Jazz Festival, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. riffed on the importance of jazz and the jazz culture. He observed: “It is no wonder that so much of the search for identity among American Negroes was championed by jazz musicians. Long before the modern essayists and scholars wrote of racial identity as a problem for a multiracial world, musicians were returning to their roots to affirm that which was stirring within their souls.”
“Much of the power of our Freedom Movement in the United States has come from this music,” he added. “It has strengthened us with its sweet rhythms when courage began to fail. It has calmed us with its rich harmonies when spirits were down.”
At a time when our constitutional rights are being trampled and American history is being whitewashed, I am answering “Fall of Freedom’s” call — as a cultural worker and as a Philadelphian.
Under the “Fall of Freedom” banner, and in collaboration with Scribe Video Center, I will lead a walking tour of Holiday’s Philadelphia.
We will trace her footsteps through Center City and South Philly. We will visit the clubs where she sang, the hotels where she stayed, and the site of the jazz club immortalized in the Tony Award–winning play Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill. Along the way, we will also highlight places connected to Robeson.
Courage is contagious. When we gather on South Broad, we are the resistance.
Faye Anderson is the founder and director of All That Philly Jazz, a place-based public history project. She can be contacted at phillyjazzapp@gmail.com.
After months of state and federal budget stalemates that have threatened essential services for Philadelphia’s most vulnerable, we now know those budget outcomes don’t address critical housing needs, and as such, we have an opportunity right now as a city to meet the moment through the first year of spending in Mayor Cherelle L. Parker’s housing affordability plan.
As a city, we are currently scrambling to decide what to do with $200 million per year for four years to address housing, when just last year we were discussing spending $1.3 billion on a Sixers arena in Chinatown. Clearly, the issue is not a lack of resources, but where we choose to direct them.
Housing in Philadelphia has rarely been people-first in its approach; rather, it’s been about extraction from communities in one form or another. One could argue that the first great Philadelphia housing plan started with the city’s founding in 1682 and was built on the displacement of the Lenape people, who had inhabited the region for generations.
In a neighborhood like Kensington — where I live and work — housing was developed at the turn of the 20th century to advance industry, and the profits to be made from it, by putting factories in formerly rural spaces and then surrounding those workplaces with as many homes as possible. This was a housing plan meant to extract as much as possible — rental payments, increased worker productivity, patronage of local businesses — from those who lived and worked here.
Fab Youth Philly brings together young people for a teen town hall to discuss housing issues on Nov. 15 at the Kensington Engagement Center.
Any transformative housing plan must be built on values: to address historical and current misaligned missions that continue to drive exploitative forces in our neighborhoods. The start of the mayor’s H.O.M.E. program is a moment to ensure the plans that we will be paying for over the next 30 years are people-first in their mission, purpose, and function.
Real change happens when we are collectively grounded in hope, community, facts, and information about where we have been, all of which can serve as a guide to where we’d like to go.
Over the last few years, New Kensington Community Development Corp. has been facilitating the Co-Creating Kensington planning and implementation process, in which we have received feedback from 700 residents about their priorities. In January, we completed the rehabilitation of a three-story building at 3000 Kensington Ave., converting it into the Kensington Engagement Center, a meeting place and exhibition space that was designed to facilitate conversations with the community on their priorities.
Conversations with our neighbors and partners revealed that housing is an increasingly pressing issue for Kensington residents (as well as for the rest of Philadelphia). We collectively recognized a moment of alignment with the release of the Philadelphia H.O.M.E. Initiative and the soon-to-be-released Pennsylvania Housing Action Plan.
This deep-dive approach is based on an understanding that community engagement needs to go beyond pizza parties and setting up tables at events. For a community to truly participate in its future, it needs to be informed, there needs to be shared power, and there needs to be collaboration and collective visioning.
The People’s Budget Office facilitates a Budget 101 Workshop at the Kensington Engagement Center on Oct. 7.
The workshop series has engaged more than 175 residents from 15 neighborhoods and has covered topics from housing wins, gentrification and displacement, how municipal resources are directed toward housing, environmental concerns, tenants’ rights, illegal evictions, and more.
Angela Brooks, Philadelphia’s chief housing and development officer and new chair of the board of the Land Bank, came out for a workshop on the H.O.M.E. plan to help residents understand how the initiative will work and to hear resident feedback.
Most recently, we hosted a teen town hall facilitated by Fab Youth Philly, in which more than 70 young people came together to share their hopes, dreams, and concerns and gave guidance on how the city can support young people — for example, looking at how the McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act implements programs that serve youth.
What we’ve learned so far is that the best way to build momentum for change is through informed, collective action and leveraging strategic pressure points by investing in relationships early. Creativity and diversity in leadership and lived experience are critical to ensuring movements are resilient, and we need to question the status quo.
Communities must be built for the people who live in them, so that they aren’t just about four walls built by colonizers and conquerors, but about communities of choice and relevance so people can thrive.
Trickle-down approaches do not work. The city’s H.O.M.E. plan needs to concretely prioritize resources for residents whose households earn no more than 30% of the area’s median income. We need to serve those on housing program wait lists before adding more and higher earners. We need to preserve the affordable housing we already have, and we need to invest more deeply in home repair programs like Built to Last.
As someone serving on the H.O.M.E. advisory board and as a nonprofit leader of a community development corporation, I learned there are several housing issues we aren’t addressing at all in the city’s H.O.M.E. plan, such as those affecting young people and individuals impacted by the criminal justice system who have urgent needs but do not meet many of the traditional service categories.
How do we move forward?
For those of us who are currently centering housing, learning and being in community is essential. But we also need actionable moments.
Participate in any of the remaining workshops in our series, become informed, and become a part of the community.
Call your City Council member to make sure they are aware of the above priorities and your desires for housing.
I recommend all these organizations because they put people first in housing plans — countering the notion that housing is just a commodity. Instead, they affirm the fundamental idea that housing is about people — and that people deserve a home.
Bill McKinney is a Kensington resident and the executive director of the New Kensington Community Development Corp.
There is a glaring omission in the wall-to-wall coverage of the Jeffrey Epstein case. Even as new headlines roar with fresh allegations, the facts of the crimes and the trauma inflicted on the innocent children continue to fall to the wayside.
The current focus on the rich and powerful and the political backstory surrounding fights over lists, transcripts, and depositions does little if anything for the still-young women who were trapped in Epstein’s depravity. Accountability and transparency are what will support them.
One thing is not in dispute: What happened to those children was no hoax. Those horrific crimes were the result of years of grooming and entrapment of young teenage girls. These crimes sadly happen at an alarming rate, often right under our noses.
Why? One major reason is that society fails to talk about them openly and honestly, leaving the public with the perception that it is a “them” rather than a “we” issue.
Forgetting about the abuse these young women and girls endured is a tragedy. Here is a glimpse into their reality:
Virginia Giuffre was 17 when Maxwell recruited her from Mar-a-Lago for a job as Epstein’s masseuse. They groomed and lured her into years of sexual abuse by trafficking her internationally. Sadly, she took her own life earlier this year. Her friends and family are robbed of sharing her life.
Maria Farmer was an aspiring artist who met Epstein and Maxwell during her studies. Under the pretext of supporting her career, they sexually abused her while security prevented her from leaving. Her pleas to authorities were ignored, allowing the abuse to continue for years. This is trauma she will never escape.
Sarah Ransome, 22, was pursuing a fashion career when Maxwell offered her mentorship. Instead, she was lured into Epstein’s circle, sexually abused, and trafficked to wealthy international rapists on “Epstein Island,” a captivity she couldn’t escape, even by trying to swim away.
Courtney Wild was just 14 when a friend convinced her to go to Palm Beach, Fla., for a job giving massages to Epstein. “Massage” as a code word for abuse and rape. Not once, but hundreds of times. Epstein made her recruit other girls in an operation that ensnared children in cycles of abuse and coercion.
Uncomfortable? Now put yourself in the victims’ shoes.
An epidemic of evil
An estimated 48,000 U.S. minors are trafficked into sexual abuse annually, leaving nearly 60 million adult survivors of child sexual abuse. That’s about one out of every five Americans. With society unwilling to even talk about their reality, it shouldn’t come as a big surprise that less than 30% of sex crimes are even reported.
Anouska De Georgiou (right) gathers with other Jeffrey Epstein accusers at a news conference outside the U.S. Capitol on Sept. 3.
Epstein’s name might be the most famous, but there are thousands more like him who count on silence, confusion, and distraction. Those creatures have something else in common: They continue to hunt for prey and inflict horrible abuse on the next victim.
Lack of accountability is a blueprint for “Epstein Islands” popping up in every community. Shying away from the uncomfortable details doesn’t soften the crime. Secrets don’t help victims heal. Epstein and Maxwell kept secrets, and other abusers hope you do, too.
Victims of sexual abuse are forced to keep secrets. Keeping documents sealed under the pretext of protecting victims is the real hoax.
If you’re serious about wanting to prevent these crimes from happening again, release all the Epstein files.
Paul DelPonte is executive director and CEO of the National Crime Prevention Council. Aaron Hanson has served as the sheriff of Douglas County, Neb., since 2023, and has nearly 30 years of law enforcement experience.
A favorite of mine was ESPN’s Mike and Mike. I remember during the height of the Colin Kaepernick protest, Mike Golic commended Kaepernick for his attention-grabbing display and the reasons behind it.
But Golic turned the tables on Kaepernick and asked what the quarterback planned to do to achieve the goals he sought through his protest.
I would love to ask white people who were part of the “No Kings” rally recently the same question, but I am unsure of what tangible outcome was sought from it. It seemed like an occasion to voice their displeasure, so I am unsure what the next step is beyond planning another “protest” in the next few months.
The optics from the mass demonstration were indeed impressive: seven million people, predominantly older and white, took part in protests nationwide. That cannot be ignored. But the substance of these protests was lacking.
Not according to news media pundits, who declare that these acts are signs of the anger and emerging resistance to the Trump administration we’ve been waiting for.
But “No Kings” shouldn’t be confused with the Arab Spring.
Protesters made no demands. They caused no ruckus. In fact, this “protest” seemed more like a party than a desperate attempt to save humanity.
Don’t get me wrong.
Protesting one’s grievances in an attempt to acquire a remedy for them by way of public policy is a good thing. Black people are well acquainted with our history of protest and resistance to unjust laws.
Lessons from the civil rights era
But the lessons for all to learn from the history of Black resistance, particularly the civil rights movement, is 1) there is always a tangible demand for something or numerous things, 2) there’s a righteous anger that is harnessed into a tangible action (e.g., protest, boycott, divesting, etc.) to produce the demand, and 3) there is a desperation that yields a willingness to sacrifice in the name of their humanity.
The “No Kings” protest had none of these.
But it did have singing, dancing, and folks in costumes. Indeed, there is room for joy within any social movement (if you can call this a social movement yet, I am not sure), and there’s been that at protests before.
Joy is one of the fruits of our work, whether it comes from protest or other mass action, but a protest isn’t a party.
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King and other civil rights leaders march in Memphis on March 28, 1968. He was killed a week later.
Organized protests should elicit a response that either brings the oppressor to their knees and forces them to concede the demand, or, at the very least, brings them to the negotiating table.
The “No Kings” rally produced only one response from Donald Trump: an AI video of a “King Trump” jet dumping what appeared to be liquid feces on the protesters. Clearly, demonstrators got a reaction from Trump, but not the kind that relieves any of the pressure they face at the kitchen table.
I previously commented that white people have a decision to make. That is, whether they intend to fight for their rights and the rights of nonwhite people, or only for their own rights. I’m not sure what these protests suggest is their answer to that question. But my advice is to learn from the civil rights movement.
Some sit it out
I highly doubt white Americans can “save” democracy in America by way of reconciling its relationship with white supremacy absent Black people. However, a lot of us have chosen to sit out these protests because many of the people protesting Trump are likely responsible for his return to power.
We’re tired of persevering through the hypocrisy in the name of survival, but I digress.
Learn from the civil rights movement to strengthen this effort on behalf of all Americans. Concretely define the “movement’s” demand(s) via policy change that can directly begin to upend systemic oppression.
Just as the civil rights movement improved the lives of all Americans, so should these coordinated mass demonstrations. Harness the real anger seen at town hall meetings, for example, to agitate and aggravate the power structure to show that these protests are a force to be reckoned with, as opposed to “a good time had by all.”
Lastly, continue direct action with a consistency that demonstrates your demands aren’t a wish list, but rather the oxygen necessary to breathe.
Taking it to the streets is definitely a start. But it’s nowhere near the finish.
To reach the finish line, y’all have more work to do. Some Democrats in Congress need to learn these lessons, as well.
Rann Miller is an educator and freelance writer based in southern New Jersey. His “Urban Education Mixtape” blog supports urban educators and parents of children attending urban schools. urbanedmixtape.com@UrbanEdDJ
Earlier this week, the United States Congress voted to reopen the federal government. Yet, for more than 470,000 residents of Philadelphia, the timeline for restoring full SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) benefits remains uncertain.
As a pediatrician, I witness its effects firsthand. I regularly speak with parents who struggle not only to find healthy options but simply to secure enough food to feed their families. Sharing information about local food banks and pantries has become a routine part of these conversations.
While the precariousness of SNAP benefits continues even as the government shutdown has ended, I am deeply concerned about the growing food insecurity facing children across the city. Among this population, I am particularly worried about children with autism, who are at even greater risk for food insecurity.
Autism spectrum disorder is a neurodevelopmental condition often accompanied by sensory overresponsiveness, which can lead to significant food aversion and extreme selectivity. Many children with autism tolerate only a limited range of foods — sometimes as few as five to 10 — because the textures, smells, or appearances of unfamiliar foods can be overwhelming.
Many challenges
Families raising children with both autism and intellectual disabilities are estimated to face twice the risk of food insecurity, driven, in part, by financial strain, childcare challenges, and reduced employment opportunities.
A national pulse survey conducted during the COVID-19 pandemic found that, amid widespread disruptions to support systems, families of children with autism were nearly four times more likely to experience food insecurity than the general population.
A sign alerts cusotmers that this store accepts food stamps, or SNAP benefits
While SNAP benefits remain uncertain, I am directing more families toward the extraordinary efforts of food banks and community pantries across Philadelphia.
These organizations, however, were designed to supplement food supplies — not to replace the sustained support that federal nutrition programs provide. Many, despite increased donations, are now facing unprecedented demand.
While I am grateful for that important work, I face understandable pushback from some families when I direct them toward Philadelphia’s food pantries. I have had heartbreaking conversations with parents who are scared about their ability to meet their child’s specialized dietary needs.
“They gave me food, but my kid won’t eat the noodles, bread, and beans they gave us. I’ll figure something out — I have to.”
“I have to pick out specific things for my kid. He’s incredibly picky and won’t eat outside of his regular foods. You’re not finding Eggo waffles at a food bank.”
A call to action
These are not isolated anecdotes. They illustrate a broader challenge that deserves public attention: the intersection of food insecurity, disability, and systemic gaps in support.
My intention is not only to express gratitude for the vital work of local food assistance organizations, but also to highlight the additional barriers facing families of children with autism.
Philadelphia’s schools already struggle to meet the educational and behavioral needs of these children. Their families often experience additional economic burden, including lower household incomes and heightened employment instability due to caregiving responsibilities — factors that compound the effects of a prolonged SNAP interruption.
The government’s reopening offers hope, but procedural hurdles remain before SNAP benefits will return to families in need. Meanwhile, my call to action is to avoid passivity and find a way to help.
Food insecurity is not always visible.
It hides in the shadows of stigma and sometimes shame. I urge those who can to support local food pantries with their time, resources, or donations. I encourage you to pick up the phone and call your elected representatives to demand swift restoration of SNAP benefits.
Finally, if you happen to know a family raising a child with autism, consider reaching out with compassion and asking, “Is there a way I can help?”
Sometimes, this small human action of solidarity may just keep a child from missing their next meal.
Nishant Pandya is a general pediatrician in Philadelphia.
Thirty years ago next February, the world’s first high-profile competition between human and machine intelligence took place in Philadelphia.
IBM’s Deep Blue supercomputer faced world chess champion Garry Kasparov at the still-new Pennsylvania Convention Center. It was timed with the 50th anniversary of the unveiling at the University of Pennsylvania of ENIAC, the world’s first supercomputer, and a reminder that Philadelphia once led the world into the computer age.
Russian chess grandmaster Garry Kasparov, hunched over a chessboard and holding his furrowed brow in his hands, competes against the supercomputer Deep Blue in February 1996.
Back then, artificial intelligence felt distant. Today, it feels existential.
As we prepare to host the nation’s 250th anniversary in 2026, I’ve been asking: In a city so rich in history, are we still interested in the future?
How it started
This spark began in 2023, during a reporting project on economic mobility called Thriving that Technical.ly — the news organization I founded and lead — published with support from the William Penn Foundation, the Pew Charitable Trusts, and the Knight Foundation. Our newsroom followed 10 Philadelphians for a year to produce an award-winning audio-documentary and hosted a dozen focus groups across the city.
One Brewerytown resident said something that inspired a previous op-ed I wrote for this paper: “Leaders here talk a lot about hundreds of years in the past, but nobody is looking very far in the future.”
Across this region — in boardrooms, nonprofits, universities, and regional corporate offices — too many leaders manage the wealth and institutions created by past entrepreneurs, but too rarely invent anything new. We fight over what exists instead of building what’s next.
The Semiquincentennial is our chance to prove we can balance our past, present, and future.
Why this matters now
My career has been spent listening to and challenging the inventors, entrepreneurs, and civic leaders shaping tomorrow’s economy. They act while others analyze.
In that spirit, we spent two years developing a vision for Philadelphia 250 years in the future. Nearly 1,000 Philadelphians have shared ideas at festivals, community events, and small-group gatherings. The current draft, open for one final round of feedback at Ph.ly, isn’t a plan but an invitation — a shared view of what we wish for our descendants in 2276.
The coming decades could bring population decline, climate strain, and sweeping technological change. Yet, many local leaders still struggle to plan even years ahead.
During a recent private discussion I moderated inside one of our city’s impressively preserved old buildings, a longtime civic leader cited Philadelphia’s poor economic mobility ranking. I reminded him that the same research, with the same warning, was released a decade ago. Why didn’t we plan to make changes then?
He assured me this time would be different.
Philadelphia’s past points forward
Philadelphia’s breakthroughs have nearly always come from outsiders who pushed past local gatekeepers.
Stephen Girard, a French immigrant dismissed by elites, built a shipping and banking fortune, stabilized the nation’s finances, and endowed Girard College.
The Drexel family’s daring banking experiments helped fuel the Industrial Revolution before founding the school for engineers.
Albert Barnes saw beauty where Philadelphia’s art establishment did not.
ENIAC’s inventors, John Mauchly and Presper Eckert, were a little-known physics professor and a 24-year-old grad student whose entrepreneurial efforts were blocked locally, presaging Silicon Valley.
Katalin Karikó and Drew Weissman attend a news conference at the University of Pennsylvania in October 2023, after they were named winners of the 2023 Nobel Prize in physiology or medicine for their work on messenger RNA, a key component of COVID-19 vaccines.
Most recently and famously, Nobel laureate Katalin Karikó’s mRNA research that led to the rapid-fast, lifesaving COVID-19 vaccine response was commercialized in Boston, not here.
The pattern is clear: Visionaries choose to live in Philadelphia, yet often get ignored, if not outright blocked, by local institutions. That’s no way to secure the next 250 years.
There are signals of change.
I take inspiration from bold efforts to build, including the Delaware waterfront and the cap of I-95. In the 2010s, Philadelphia’s technology sector earned initial, if timid, attention from successive mayoral administrations and civic leadership — and a half dozen tech unicorns were born.
That tech community helped inform this multiyear vision statement project, which received $75,000 from a funders collaborative activating Semiquincentennial efforts, including the William Penn and Connelly Foundations. The city’s 2026 planning director, Michael Newmius, has been supportive, urging us to listen to residents and avoid undue filtering.
Over two years, we’ve tabled at community events, hosted discussions, and led working sessions. The result isn’t mealymouthed or filtered by incumbency; it has grit and humanity — like Philadelphia itself.
You can read the draft vision at Ph.ly and in the article box in this op-ed. We’re collecting one final round of feedback this fall, and we’ll incorporate what we can. We’re accepting feedback until Dec. 1.
From conversation to commitment
Our goal is to enshrine the final version of this statement on a physical plaque at a prominent location in the city. We’ll also host a digital version online, paired with voices from residents across the region.
This vision doesn’t prescribe policy, nor make fallible predictions; instead, it offers a shared aspiration, a framework that future leaders can measure their plans against.
In its early drafts, the statement imagined a green-energy Philadelphia with climate-adaptive agriculture, abundant public art, thriving multigenerational neighborhoods, and a culture that “exports ideas and imports opportunity.”
Over subsequent versions, the specifics were removed to reflect the long time horizon, but the spirit remains: Philadelphia must keep people — not technology, not incumbency — at the center of our future.
The Semiquincentennial should celebrate our history — I personally cherish it. I was a historic Old City tour guide for a year, and my daily bicycle commute to the Technical.ly newsroom past Independence Hall reminds me what endurance looks like.
But if we only admire our past, we’ve missed its key lesson. Philadelphia is strongest when we pair cobblestones with invention’s spark.
Read the vision at Ph.ly. Critique it, add to it, make it better. May it inspire Philadelphians for generations to keep building, not just preserving.
The Kasparov-Deep Blue rivalry is remembered as the moment a machine beat a human genius. But that was the rematch. The first contest — the one held here in Philadelphia — ended with the human winning. Let’s make sure that’s still true for our city.
Christopher Wink is the publisher and cofounder of the news organization Technical.ly.
Talk to most nonprofit chief executives, and they’ll be able, on cue, to recite a heartwarming story about someone their organizations helped.
And the Rev. Luis Cortés Jr., Esperanza’s founder and chief executive, can do it, too.
But he’d rather talk about a sin he committed as a little boy — a sin that impacted his thinking for a lifetime and allowed him to understand how to build a $111.6 million organization with 800 employees that educates, develops, uplifts, and houses 35,000 people a year in the heart of North Philadelphia’s predominantly Hispanic Hunting Park neighborhood.
When Cortés was 12, he stole a Snickers candy bar from the bodega his father owned in New York City’s Spanish Harlem.
Oh, his father figured it out, and quickly, too, because he began to ask little Luis some important questions:
Did the 12-year-old know how many Snickers bars the bodega would have to sell to break even — not only on the box of Snickers, but on the taxes and utilities for the entire store? More importantly, how many Snickers bars would be required to turn a profit — a profit that could be reinvested?
“You need to understand finance, whether it’s a box of Snickers or a multimillion-dollar bond to build a school. Where is the money coming from, and what’s the repayment structure?” Cortés said.
Outside, as he spoke, a crane moved materials in what will soon become a new culinary school.
“Understanding finance is important, and understanding culture is important, and you have to understand the relationship between the two.”
So, yes, Cortés can and did tell the story about the mother who came to Esperanza to learn English skills, who got help to get a job and a house, who sent her daughter to Esperanza’s charter school and to Esperanza’s college, and now that same daughter is getting a house thanks to Esperanza’s mortgage counseling help.
Students Jayliani Casioano, Oryulie Andujar, Derek Medina, and Natalia Kukulski use an interactve anatomy table. The students are members of is the Health Occupations Students of America (HOSA).
All good. But this is what Cortés really wants people to know:
“If people trust us with their funds,” he said, “we’re putting the money into institutions, and institutions build culture.”
That’s why Esperanza has a K-12 charter school, a cyber school, a two-year college that’s a branch campus of Eastern University, a 320-seat theater, an art gallery, computer labs, an immigration law practice, a neighborhood revitalization office, a CareerLink office for workforce development and job placement, a music program, a youth leadership institute, housing and benefit assistance, and a state-of-the-art broadcasting facility.
Cortés even likes to brag about the basketball court. “Three inches of concrete, maple wood flooring, fiberglass backboards — NBA standards.”
“Think about Paoli. It has a hospital, a public school, a theater. Paoli has all of that, and it’s understood that that’s the quality of life. We have to have access to those same things at a different price point,” he said. “Notice I didn’t say different quality. I said different price point.
“We want to create an opportunity community, where people can have a good life — with arts, housing, healthcare, financial literacy, education, all those pieces — regardless of your family income,” he said.
“What’s important here and what’s different is that in all our places, all our facilities are first class,” Cortés said.
“I grew up in a low-income community where people were always telling you to step up, but step up to what?” he asked. “Where is the vision? What is possible to even have? How can anyone know unless they can see it?”
So, when people from the community visit Esperanza, “you can see that you can have the best facilities with state-of-the-art equipment. As a provider of services, we have to step up,” he said, in turn always giving people the tools and resources they need to step up.
For example, on Citizenship Day, Sept. 20, Anu Thomas, an attorney and executive director of Esperanza’s Immigration Legal Services, trained a dozen volunteer lawyers and law students on the fine points and recent pitfalls in the process of applying for citizenship.
Soon, the room was crowded with people coming for help.
Watching from the sidelines was Charlie Ellison, executive director of the city’s Office of Immigrant Affairs, who noted that an estimated 60,000 legal residents of Philadelphia are eligible to apply for citizenship.
“Clinics like these are critically important to helping people who might be facing barriers,” including the cost of getting legal help. “This bridges a lot of gaps. It’s a vital mission, now more than ever,” he said.
For Neury “Tito” Caba, a men’s fashion designer, tailor, and director of green space at Historic Fair Hill, citizenship help from Esperanza was a family affair. Through Esperanza, he, his grandmother, and his mother all became citizens.
“Now I can vote, and that’s the most positive thing I can do,” he said. “And also, things being the way they are, it gives me some sort of protection.”
Fashion designer Neury “Tito” Caba talks about his citizenship experience at Esperanza.
Earlier this fall at Esperanza’s CareerLink branch, counselor Sylvia Carabillo helped Luis Rubio on the computer. He was trying to extend his unemployment benefits and looking for a job as a security guard. Agueda Mojica was being tutored in Esperanza’s most popular workforce class: Introduction to Computers.
“I want to become more independent to be able to do anything on a computer,” she said in Spanish, speaking through a translator. “I was always working and never had time to learn.”
Much of Esperanza’s staff is bilingual in Spanish, but to help people from the neighborhood, Esperanza also hired counselors who speak Ukrainian and Kreyòl for Haitians who live nearby.
In Esperanza College classrooms a few weeks ago, Esperanza Academy high schoolers enrolled as college students had just finished a chemistry exam. When they graduate from high school, they’ll already have associate degrees on their résumés.
For them, Esperanza represents a future.
There’s Oryulie Andujar, 18, who wants to study sonography because an ultrasound technician found a cyst in her mother’s uterus. “We could have lost her. That was very impactful for me.”
Jayliani Casiano, 17, wants to go into anesthesiology. The oldest of seven, she witnessed her mother giving birth to several younger siblings. “She was in a lot of pain. It was interesting. I want to do everything after seeing her through that process.”
Derek Medina, 18, said the opportunity to go to college “made me rethink my whole life.” He had been getting into trouble in school, but now wants to combine a love of mathematics and a desire to help people by going into the field of biomedical engineering.
Recently, on Nov. 14, Esperanza College hosted its Ninth Annual Minorities in Health Sciences Symposium, designed to acquaint high schoolers with medical careers.
Construction will soon begin to convert a former warehouse space into a center to teach welding and HVAC in an apprenticeship program.
Next month, it’ll be time for “Christmas En El Barrio” with music, food, and community in Teatro Esperanza — admission is free. In January, the Philadelphia Ballet will perform there. Tickets are $15 and free for senior citizens and students.
“My worst seat — in Row 13 — would be $250 at the Academy of Music,” Cortés said. He wants to offer the arts at a price and a time available to a mother of three, who may not be able to afford even the cheapest seats in downtown venues, plus bus fare, “and heaven forbid the child wants a soda,” Cortés said.
All this adds up to culture, which brings him back to the Snickers bar, and not just breaking even, but investing.
Other groups, Cortés said, had to build their own institutions when mainstream organizations put up barriers. Howard University helped Black people, Brandeis served Jewish people, and Notre Dame provided education to the Irish.
Building an institution is his investment goal with Esperanza, and he takes as his mentors famous Philadelphia pastors such as the Rev. Leon Sullivan, who founded Progress Plaza in North Philadelphia, and the Rev. Russell Conwell, the Baptist minister who founded Temple University.
“Philadelphia has a tradition that its clergy don’t just do clergy things,” he said, admitting that he doesn’t have the patience for a more traditional pastor’s role. “As clergy here, it’s understood that we snoop around everything.”
Cities sometimes brag that their poverty rates have declined, he said, when in reality, rates have declined because people with low incomes were forced to move away.
Philadelphia, he said, has a chance to be different — to lower the poverty level both by raising people’s incomes and improving their standards of living. “There should be Esperanzas in every neighborhood,” he said.
“How can we focus on helping the people who just need a break?” Cortés said, referencing Jesus’ admonishment to “help the least of these.”
“This city has the opportunity to make this a win-win,” he said, “to show the rest of the country and Washington, D.C. — especially Washington, D.C. — that people who are different, and people who are `the other’ can be supported, so that they are not only part of the fabric of the city, but economic drivers of the city.”
This article is part of a series about Philly Gives — a community fund to support nonprofits through end-of-year giving. To learn more about Philly Gives, including how to donate, visit phillygives.org.
For more information about Philly Gives, including how to donate, visit phillygives.org.
AboutEsperanza
People Served: 35,000
Annual Spending: $111.6 million across all divisions
Point of Pride: Esperanza empowers clients to transform their lives and their community through a diverse array of programs, including K-14 education, job training and placement, neighborhood revitalization and greening, housing and financial counseling, immigration legal services, arts programming, and more.
You Can Help: Esperanza welcomes volunteers for community cleanups, plantings, and other neighborhood events. Some programs also need volunteers with specific skills (lawyers, translators, etc.).
$25 covers the cost of one private music lesson for a young student through our Artístas y Músicos Latinoamericanos program.
$50 provides printing and distribution of 30 “Know Your Rights” brochures to immigrant families.
$100 pays for five hours of training for a new mentor fellow at the Esperanza Arts Center, preparing a young person for a career in arts production through hands-on learning.
$275 funds the planting of one street tree in a neighborhood that desperately needs additional tree cover to address extreme heat.
$350 covers tuition and books for one English as a second language student at the Esperanza English Institute.
$550 supports the cost of the initial work authorization for an asylum-seeker.
Pennsylvania has an opportunity to lead the nation in righting a long-standing wrong in our housing laws.
A group of legislators has introduced the PA Fair Future Act — landmark legislation that would end the state’s enforcement of one of the most damaging and overlooked barriers to housing: the Thurmond Amendment.
Enacted in 1988 during the height of the war on drugs, the Thurmond Amendment allows landlords and property sellers to deny housing solely on the basis of a drug distribution conviction — regardless of how long ago it occurred, the person’s current circumstances, or how much they’ve rebuilt their lives.
Imagine making a mistake as a teenager or young adult — getting caught up in drugs, serving your sentence, and spending years working hard to turn your life around.
Despite holding a steady job, maintaining good credit, and having a clean rental history, you still find yourself legally locked out of housing because of a decades-old conviction.
Some landlords won’t return your calls. Others reject your application outright, no questions asked.
That’s the reality for thousands of Pennsylvanians.
Take the case of Jonathon Jacobs, who was convicted of marijuana distribution when he was 19. For years, Jacobs faced rejection in the housing market or was forced to pay exorbitant security deposits because of his record.
His punishment didn’t end with his sentence — it extended into every aspect of his life, including his ability to provide stable housing for his family.
Ironically, had Jacobs been convicted of a violent crime, he would not be facing this same legal barrier.
In 2016, the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) issued guidanceurging housing providers to consider criminal records in context — taking into account factors like rental, credit, and employment history.
But the Thurmond Amendment creates an explicit carveout: Anyone with a drug distribution conviction is excluded from these protections. It’s a loophole that leaves people like Jacobs permanently locked out of fair housing opportunities.
The law’s impact in Pennsylvania is staggering.
Since 1988, over 80,000 Pennsylvanians have been convicted of drug distribution offenses — many for small amounts. In fact, the most frequently charged amount is less than 1 gram, barely more than a sugar packet.
In 2022, the U.S. House voted to help roll back the war on drugs that as proportionately targeted people of color.
Had many of these cases occurred in today’s legal and political environment, they likely would have been charged as simple possession, and those convicted would have retained their housing rights.
These aren’t major traffickers being excluded from housing; they’re mostly people punished for low-level mistakes, often made in their youth, that carry lifetime consequences.
Black Pennsylvanians are five times more likely than white residents to receive a distribution conviction.
By denying housing based on old records, the Thurmond Amendment reinforces systemic racial disparities and perpetuates cycles of poverty, incarceration, and family instability — all without contributing to public safety.
Thankfully, there’s a path forward.
While federal efforts to repeal the Thurmond Amendment continue, as our governor is fond of saying, “We’re getting stuff done here in Pennsylvania.”
State Rep. Josh Siegel has introduced legislation in Harrisburg to repeal the amendment’s effect at the state level, restoring fair housing protections to those with drug distribution convictions.
House Bill 1492 passed committee on Monday, Sept. 29 and is expected to come to the House floor in the coming weeks.
This is an opportunity for Pennsylvania to lead. It’s a chance to affirm that people should be judged not by their past, but by whom they are today.
Stable housing isn’t just a second chance; it’s the first step toward a better life. Let’s make it accessible to everyone.
Anjelica D. Sanders is a policy advisor and community reporter focused on public health and policy.Yusuf Dahl is CEO of The Century Promise and founder of the Real Estate Lab in Allentown, Pa.
