PHILADELPHIA—Accessing essential care on the streets of Philly’s Kensington neighborhood, local epicenter of both the addiction and housing crises, is about to become a lot harder.
That’s because on May 8, the Philadelphia City Council passed Bill No. 240665-AA, introduced by Councilmember Quetcy Lozada, which targets mobile service units, both medical and non-medical, in the area.
The legislation imposes permitting requirements, restricts hours of operation, and limits service locations. It passed 13 to 3 and awaits Mayor Cherelle Parker’s signature. Progressive Councilmembers Kendra Brooks, Nicolas O’Rourke, and Rue Landau voted against the bill.
Under the law, mobile medical units may only operate between 11 p.m. and 6 a.m. along East Allegheny Avenue or at 265 E. Lehigh Avenue. Provision of non-medical services, including food, hygiene kits, and clean syringes, are limited to 45-minute intervals and must relocate 1,000 feet between stops. All providers must obtain a city permit.
Harm reduction practices in Kensington include the distribution of sterile syringes, naloxone, fentanyl test strips, wound care supplies, food, and hygiene kits. Organizations like SOL Collective operate on a mutual aid model, not through institutional service provision. In 2023, the collective distributed over 100,000 syringes and more than 8,200 doses of naloxone.
Its services are mobile, volunteer-run, and based on principles of bodily autonomy and non-coercion. Harm reduction workers emphasize that the majority of this work is interpersonal and educational, not clinical.
“It’s 80% communication, education, and destigmatizing conversations,” Aileen Callahan, a Kensington resident and volunteer with the Positive Women’s Network, told People’s World. “And it’s actually 20% like the on-the-ground wound care, food and clothing distribution, and overdose reversals.” Workers assert that current city policy criminalizes these efforts and increases exposure to preventable harm.
Supporters of the bill, including Lozada and some business owners, frame it as a response to resident complaints about encampments, drug use, and public disorder. Lozada stated, “My community was pleading for change. Residents are tired of seeing mobile units parked outside their homes, schools, and parks with no oversight.”
Critics, however, argue the legislation will reduce access to life-saving services. Harm reduction advocates claim it undermines public health and increases overdose risk. “No one on this council is qualified to decide when and where people receive medical care,” said harm reduction worker Paul Berlet. “When you block outreach workers and mobile service providers from doing their job, you are not solving a problem.”
Callaghan criticized the bill’s implications. “Everybody who is in Philadelphia is a part of our community. They can live in a house, they can be on drugs, or they can be sober. We are all still members of a community,” she told People’s World. “They want to make sure that people are just removed. These are just all steps to make sure that the Wellness Center that Parker brought up in 2024 is a jail for people who are addicted.”
The law exempts services operated by the city’s Department of Public Health and emergency or pediatric providers. This exemption has drawn criticism for sidelining grassroots and mutual aid groups lacking government affiliation.
This legislative action comes amid intensifying conflict over the future of Kensington, a neighborhood shaped by intersecting crises of addiction, housing insecurity, policing, and redevelopment. Between 2016 and 2021, Old Kensington’s population increased by 34.9%, while West Kensington’s population declined by 14.9%.
Critics frame the bill as part of a broader strategy of displacement. By pushing poverty and addiction out of view, the city creates conditions favorable to real estate speculation and wealthier people moving into the neighborhood
The physical conditions used to justify enforcement, including blighted buildings, abandoned homes, and vacant lots, are frequently the responsibility of absentee landlords. A 2024 investigation by The Philadelphia Inquirer found that dozens of these properties are owned by corporate entities that allow them to deteriorate while awaiting city-led cleanups. “Investors quietly purchased rowhouses, waited for the city to remove encampments, then flipped them for profit,” the report noted.
From 2020 to 2022, corporate entities accounted for more than half of all single-family home purchases in Upper Kensington, over 700 properties, compared to about a quarter citywide. Critics argue that this speculative ownership fuels disrepair and shapes policy outcomes. By restricting harm reduction and displacing the unhoused, the city increases marketability and resale value.
Residents, understandably, have raised concerns over safety and neighborhood conditions. But rather than addressing these issues through public investment, activists say city officials have aligned with corporate property holders. Instead of holding these owners accountable, enforcement is directed at unhoused and drug-using residents, advancing redevelopment at the community’s expense.
“In the name of dignity for one group, it strips dignity for another. People will not stop needing care just because it’s harder to provide, but they may die trying to find it,” Samm Pheiffer of Positive Women’s Network told Kensington Voice.
Over the past two years, city and state officials have escalated interventions targeting drug users in Kensington. In 2023, the City Council banned supervised injection sites in most districts, halting efforts to establish safer consumption infrastructure.
In 2024, Mayor Parker launched the “Kensington Community Revival” plan. The initiative began with encampment sweeps that displaced at least 44 people. A second sweep in September resulted in 34 arrests, and one woman later died in custody.
Police presence has increased alongside these operations. Outreach workers report heightened surveillance and community tension. “Folks are concerned that the police presence will inhibit or discourage outreach efforts,” said Kelsey León of the Community Action Relief Project (CARP).
In early 2025, the city introduced the Kensington Wellness Court, a diversion program that offers individuals charged with low-level offenses the option of court-mandated treatment or fines. City reports show high rates of noncompliance and resulting bench warrants. “It raises red flags about consent, it raises red flags about effectiveness—certainly about expense,” said Councilmember Nicolas O’Rourke.
Most recently, State Sen. Anthony Williams introduced Senate Bill 716 at Parker’s request. The bill would classify substance use disorder as a mental illness and allow police and crisis responders to initiate involuntary psychiatric holds of up to 120 hours. However, State Sen. Nikil Saval cautioned, “There’s just lots of evidence that suggests that patients who are forced into care just don’t remain in care, and that the effect can be the opposite.”
Advocates warn the bill will deepen stigma, deter people from seeking help, and accelerate a carceral approach to addiction. Taken together, these actions reflect a citywide pivot toward criminalization, containment, and coerced treatment. Harm reduction workers caution that this trajectory risks worsening outcomes for those most in need.
Activists say the fight for dignity in Kensington is not just about opposing one bill, but about building a movement for structural change.
“We all have the ability to enact change, we don’t have to be lawyers, we don’t have to have our master’s degree in policy,” said Callaghan. “It is our civic responsibility to identify, challenge, and replace public servants who do not serve the public.”
Harm reduction workers and residents vow to continue organizing for a city that invests in care, not coercion.
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