This article appears in the February 2025 issue of The American Prospect magazine. Subscribe here.
Stepping off at the Allegheny subway station in Philadelphia’s Kensington neighborhood, visitors are immediately met with a grim reality. Sidewalks are littered with trash and used needles. Every few hundred feet, somebody is slumped over in a trance-like state. Those who are awake are so fixated on preparing and shooting up drugs that they don’t even acknowledge or notice passersby. It’s also eerily silent. Nobody is talking and nobody asks for spare change. The air feels heavy with despair and hopelessness.
Just eight subway stops away from where the Declaration of Independence was signed, distressing and shocking scenes unfold in plain sight. A man on Allegheny Avenue bleeds openly from a fresh injection wound. A woman sleeps in a wheelchair parked in front of a Catholic charity, her left foot amputated. Two women camp in a tent on a sidewalk with a young girl. Numerous working-age men are completely oblivious to the world around them. On the steps to enter the nearby Somerset subway station, a woman injects a companion in the breast, presumably due to a lack of viable veins elsewhere on her body.
Most people struggling with addiction are not from the neighborhood. They come from the suburbs and other cities in search of drugs.
Kensington is the epicenter of Philadelphia’s opioid crisis and a haunting symbol of failed drug policies. The iconic city gave birth to American independence and was defined by the progress and prosperity of the Industrial Revolution. But now the City of Brotherly Love is shadowed by the largest open-air drug market on the East Coast. Located in the heart of the neighborhood, McPherson Square Park, grimly nicknamed “Needle Park,” serves as both a gathering point and a tragic symbol of the decline of the U.S. empire. While efforts have been made to clean the area, remnants of addiction remain stark against the backdrop of a stately public library.
Patrol cars are a constant presence, but it’s not uncommon to see police officers checking their cellphones instead of intervening in the chaos and suffering unfolding around them. Decades after declaring a “war on drugs,” the United States now faces a deep-rooted fentanyl crisis, with politicians preferring to blame Mexican cartels instead of funding drug treatment and prevention programs or identifying the underlying causes of addiction.
Yet, amid the chaos, life persists. Kensington is home to resilient communities, particularly from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic, who now make up 59 percent of the neighborhood’s population. Carving out lives amid the hopelessness, they navigate the unwritten laws of the street with quiet strength. Flags flutter from porches, and children splash in a kiddie pool placed on a sidewalk. People walk around human feces and needles on the sidewalks. Conversations with residents reveal stories of survival and determination, like one Puerto Rican man who relocated after Hurricane Maria, in search of a better future for his family.
Cantina La Martina and “the Chef”
In this challenging landscape, Cantina La Martina stands out as an unexpected oasis. Located at the corner of East Somerset Street and Kensington Avenue, this acclaimed Mexican restaurant is a world apart, with colorful murals, traditional Catrina figures, and handcrafted Mexican decor creating an oasis from the surrounding maelstrom.
Opened by Chef Dionicio Jimenez and Mariangeli Alicea Saez, Cantina La Martina tells a story of resilience and ambition. Twice nominated for the prestigious James Beard Award, Jimenez was a semifinalist for “Outstanding Chef” in 2024. Investing everything he had, he opened the restaurant in Kensington in February 2022, even living above it for two years. With over a decade of experience at El Rey, a renowned Mexican restaurant in downtown Philadelphia, Jimenez envisioned a space that would honor Mexico’s rich culinary heritage beyond tacos and burritos.
Limited financial resources steered Jimenez to Kensington, where his vision finally became a reality. To support the restaurant’s early days, he planned to work as an Uber driver, and relied heavily on delivery services to stay afloat post-pandemic. Despite the odds, Cantina La Martina gradually gained a loyal following. Word spread, and patrons began to see the restaurant not just as a place for exceptional food, but as a symbol of hope and perseverance amid Kensington’s harsh realities.
Today, Cantina La Martina is more than just a restaurant—it’s a testament to the power of community, culture, and culinary excellence in one of Philadelphia’s most challenging neighborhoods.
Usually sporting cowboy boots and walking with a confident swagger, Jimenez carries immense pride in his Mexican heritage and the arduous journey that brought him to the United States. As a tribute to this experience, he commissioned a striking mural painted by Mexican artist Ignacio “Nacho” Bernal from Morelia, Michoacán. Facing Somerset Street, the mural, titled El Sueño Americano, or “The American Dream,” captures the immigrant experience in Philadelphia with raw honesty.
The mural tells a powerful story: backpacks symbolizing the journey of undocumented migrants, and crosses marking the graves of those who never made it. Flags from across Latin America highlight the diversity of the immigrant experience, while two eagles—one Mexican, one American—symbolize the deep connection between the two nations. At its heart, the Virgin of Guadalupe represents faith and resilience, while the Statue of Liberty stands as a beacon of hope. Shaking hands at the mural’s top represents the solidarity often found at the border among migrants. Death is an ever-present danger along each step of the journey to the United States. And yet when they make it to their destination, many migrants shrug off encounters that would scar most people with post-traumatic stress syndrome. It’s a type of self-victimization that Jimenez believes is characteristic among people from colonized societies.
“Sometimes migrants fear reality,” Jimenez said. “We do not want to tell the truth. Many times, we act as victims; but we aren’t victims. Why victimize ourselves for something nobody forced us to do? It was our decision to migrate.”
The mural’s hopeful message contrasts sharply with the Dantesque surroundings as an emblem of hope and perseverance, telling a story of sacrifice, survival, and the pursuit of a dream that transcends borders. Despite its vulnerable location, Jimenez remains confident the mural will be respected.
“It is a mural that we did in Kensington and the people of Kensington try to protect it,” he said.
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Chef Dionicio Jimenez and the mural at his Kensington restaurant, Cantina La Martina
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Chef Dionicio Jimenez and the mural at his Kensington restaurant, Cantina La Martina
Mariangeli’s “Onion”
Jimenez’s wife Saez brings both strength and determination to the restaurant she helped to open. A proud Puerto Rican, she sees their venture as more than just a business—it’s a platform to represent the Latino community in Kensington with dignity. Opening a restaurant in this neighborhood remains a formidable challenge, but for Saez, it’s a mission worth pursuing.
Saez highlights the struggles they face daily, navigating interactions with individuals battling substance use disorders. These encounters are routine—requests for food, water, or restroom access—but Saez approaches them with respect and humanity. Her approach is simple yet profound: offering assistance in exchange for small tasks, reinforcing dignity and purpose.
“They all deserve respect,” she said. “They all need to feel they are seen and that they matter as human beings.”
But she also notes the systemic factors contributing to Kensington’s crisis. Most people struggling with addiction are not from the neighborhood. They come from the suburbs and other cities in search of drugs. Police from suburban areas are said to shuttle them to the neighborhood, creating a cycle of concentrated neglect.
Over her past two years in Kensington, Saez has seen several heartbreaking scenes—overdose victims collapsing on sidewalks, people foaming at the mouth and suffering seizures. One day, arriving at work, Saez was greeted by the flashing red and blue lights of emergency vehicles. Three people had presumably died from overdoses, one almost in front of the restaurant, another at the corner, and the third across the street. She and restaurant staff have had to administer the lifesaving drug Narcan to revive unconscious people. Even after nearly dying, some refuse help, fearing police involvement.
“Sometimes you wonder if it is OK to call 911,” Saez said. “It is very difficult to see this. Since we live and work in Kensington, we observe the deterioration of some people we get to know; we see them getting their first ‘high’ and then see how they slowly deteriorate. Weeks pass by and you see how some start to bend, how they start to die slower or faster … it depends.”
And yet Kensington is not defined solely by despair. Saez describes the neighborhood as an “onion,” layered with both hardship and hope. Beneath the visible crisis lies a resilient community with youth program leaders quietly driving change. Saez challenges the dominant narrative about Kensington, emphasizing the importance of seeing beyond its struggles.
“There are very profound and complex problems to solve here of course,” she said. “But above the negative, above that stigma, there are good things, and there is a community that fights for change … the mission of our restaurant is to change the perspective people have about Kensington. Yes, there is trauma and pain involved, but we need to analyze that sentiment and transform it.”
Working-Class Neighborhood
Tracing its roots back to the early 18th century, Philadelphia’s working-class Kensington reflects the broader social and economic shifts throughout urban America. More than 300 years ago, the neighborhood was founded as a center for shipbuilding, ironworks, and textile manufacturing. Irish and German immigrants flocked to the neighborhood drawn by jobs and tight-knit communities.
By the early 20th century, Kensington was a bustling industrial hub, with row houses lining residential streets. Generations of families worked in the nearby factories and mills, embodying work ethic and thrift. However, the mid-20th century brought significant decline. During the 1950s and 1960s, numerous factories in Kensington and the rest of Philadelphia closed. And as unemployment rose, many white working-class families moved away in search of better opportunities.
In the decades that followed, Kensington experienced a demographic shift as Latino immigrants, primarily from the U.S. territory of Puerto Rico, began to settle in the storied neighborhood. By the 1980s, Kensington had become a hub of Puerto Rican culture in Philadelphia. Spanish-language storefronts, bodegas, and vibrant murals became common sights. Although the Latino community brought a renewed sense of identity and cultural pride, economic opportunities remain scarce while poverty and a lack of investment persist.
Beginning in the 1990s, the neighborhood became a focal point in Philadelphia’s opioid crisis as cheap heroin flooded its streets. Kensington’s location, with easy access to major highways and public transportation, made it a convenient hub for drug dealers. Abandoned buildings and vacant lots became hot spots for illegal activity, while open-air drug markets began to appear. As the opioid crisis deepened in the 2010s, Kensington gained national attention as a symbol of urban decay and public-policy failure. Overdose rates soared, while scenes of human suffering became all too common.
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Kensington is the epicenter of Philadelphia’s opioid crisis and a haunting symbol of failed drug policies.
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Kensington is the epicenter of Philadelphia’s opioid crisis and a haunting symbol of failed drug policies.
Incomplete Harm Reduction
Heroin has been replaced as the top drug on the streets of Kensington by fentanyl and other opioids. One of the most dangerous newcomers, known as “tranq,” is the street name for xylazine, a horse tranquilizer not approved for human use. This central nervous system depressant is often mixed with fentanyl, heroin, or even stimulants to enhance or prolong the effects. Once in the body, the mix causes a slow heart rate and deep sedation, leaving users in a zombie-like state. The drug has also been linked to necrotic skin ulcers that can lead to severe infections and even amputations.
Policing remains a visible presence in Kensington, yet decades of contrasting strategies—ranging from zero tolerance to community policing and displacement campaigns—have all fallen short. Clearing encampments under bridges or along railroad tracks, often supported by city initiatives with corporate involvement like the Resilience Project, has done little to address the neighborhood’s core issues.
It’s clear that policing alone cannot resolve Kensington’s social and economic struggles. Civil society efforts, while well intentioned, are often fragmented and struggle to include the voices of those most affected. The challenges here go far beyond addiction and homelessness, touching on mental health, inequality, gentrification, and entrenched economic disinvestment.
Harm reduction has emerged as a strategy in U.S. cities, prioritizing the mitigation of drug-related harm over eradication. While praised by some policymakers, harm reduction creates more problems than it solves in Kensington, according to those who live and work there. For example, programs like Prevention Point Philadelphia’s syringe exchange have unintentionally contributed to streets being littered with used needles, according to local residents and business owners.
It would be a mistake, however, to dismiss the benefits of these programs in saving lives and reducing the spread of infectious diseases. Overdose deaths in the United States decreased in 2023 for the first time in five years, and the widespread availability of naloxone, or Narcan, is said to have played a significant role in that decline. At a national level, there were 74,702 deaths attributed to synthetic opioids in 2023, a nearly 2 percent drop from 76,226 the year prior, according to figures from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).
In Philadelphia, drug overdoses are the third-leading cause of death in the city, just behind heart disease and cancer. The City of Brotherly Love saw a record 1,207 overdose deaths in 2022. Although that number fell to 1,122 in 2023, that’s still more than 2.75 times the number of homicides, the sixth-leading cause of death in the city.
Some residents express skepticism toward NGOs operating in Kensington, viewing them as overly reliant on external funding and lacking long-term solutions. However, it would be unfair to suggest these organizations operate with self-serving intentions. The problem isn’t harm reduction itself, but the absence of complementary strategies, such as increased funding for comprehensive treatment programs and sustained economic investment in the neighborhood.
Addressing Kensington’s challenges demands a multifaceted approach. Harm reduction should remain a key component, but it must be paired with broader investments in treatment, mental health services, and economic revitalization. The goal should not just be reducing harm but creating pathways to recovery, stability, and dignity for Kensington’s residents. Without a commitment to meaningful collaboration, sustainable economic initiatives, and inclusive community engagement, the cycle of addiction, poverty, and systemic neglect will continue.
Living and Working in Kensington
Roz Pichardo is the founder of Operation Save Our City and the Sunshine House, a community center for individuals living with addiction and the unhoused. Known by her nickname “Mama Sunshine,” Pichardo highlighted that drug dealers in Kensington distribute free samples multiple times a day to hook new customers. Calls of “Free samples!” echo through the streets, drawing in vulnerable individuals and creating a fast track to addiction.
Many NGOs operate with government grants. Although most are well-meaning, residents of Kensington argue that these initiatives often create unintended consequences that generate hazardous waste and concentrate human suffering.
“The provision of these grants … is used by local governments to allege they are doing something to solve the problem,” Saez said. “Actually, they are delegating their responsibility to a private partner.”
Community members share similar frustrations, emphasizing that while protecting the lives and safety of drug users is worthwhile, it often overlooks their rights and well-being in the process. In addition to used and discarded needles, temporary aid, such as food or tents, frequently leaves behind litter and disruption.
“Maybe if they want to help, they could also bring trash bins,” one resident suggested.
Jimenez echoed this frustration, noting that police clearing one street simply pushes the problem to another, often equally impoverished, area—demonstrating a lack of coordinated social responsibility. Harm-reduction supporters, he said, rarely advocate for such programs in their own neighborhoods.
“Where are the rights of the children, the business owners, and the families that live in Kensington?” another neighborhood resident asked. “Where are the human rights of the members who live in our poor community?”
Despite these criticisms, many in Kensington acknowledge the value of harm reduction when applied responsibly. However, meaningful change requires a level of state investment and commitment that seems unlikely in Pennsylvania’s current political landscape, where the legislature remains split, with Republicans safely controlling the Senate and Democrats holding a narrow 102-101 majority in the House. In that political setting, funding initiatives explicitly aimed at community well-being face significant political hurdles and are unlikely to gain broad bipartisan support.
Residents like Saez see the nuance of the situation. “It’s not black-and-white,” she said. “Leaving people on the streets isn’t humane for them or the community. These individuals need treatment and support in spaces equipped to help them recover.”
At the same time, she wants the government to also display compassion for everyone who is impacted by the crisis. “There is a reason and a place for harm reduction,” Saez explained. “However, there is a sort of war or plight between harm reductionists and residents. We hardly hear the voices of the residents.”
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The opioid epidemic is fueled not just by illegal trafficking but also by Big Pharma’s role in spreading addiction.
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The opioid epidemic is fueled not just by illegal trafficking but also by Big Pharma’s role in spreading addiction.
The Biggest Drug Cartel
The story of Kensington underscores a broader reality: The opioid epidemic is fueled not just by illegal trafficking but also by Big Pharma’s role in spreading addiction. Pharmaceutical giants continue to profit from harm-reduction strategies, including government-funded programs to purchase lifesaving medications like naloxone, while largely avoiding accountability for the devastation they’ve caused.
“Pharmaceutical companies receive the extraordinary benefits of harm-reduction strategies since they benefit from social programs in which the government buys narcotics to deal with overdose,” Jimenez said. “At the same time, they receive significant tax breaks. We need to make the businesses and pharmaceutical companies accountable for all the damage they have caused and for the role they have played in the making of this human tragedy. Unfortunately, politicians, the media, and public opinion in general prefer to place the blame on the Mexican cartels.”
Nobody wants to stop buying Narcan when it can save so many lives. However, a small but growing number of voices believe that pharmaceutical companies should be required to provide naloxone for free as part of their settlements in opioid-related lawsuits. So far, public officials seem more content to merely manage the crisis, rather than resolve it. Meanwhile, the people of Kensington must bear the social and economic burden.
The true beneficiaries of this ongoing public-health emergency are pharmaceutical companies, NGOs, and, eventually, real estate developers who see opportunity amid despair. This is, according to one Kensington resident, “the perfect time for developers to buy properties. And after the police relocate the drug consumers and the unsheltered, massive development projects can break ground in those areas that were once impassable and unlivable.”
Real estate interests are frequently an overlooked but significant factor in the narrative of urban decline and renewal. Once an area is cleared of visible poverty and crime, developers move in, reshaping neighborhoods while driving up prices and displacing longtime residents.
Still largely unwritten, the story of Kensington is a microcosm of America’s broader struggles with systemic inequities, drug policy failures, and misplaced blame in addressing the fentanyl crisis. Politicians have long favored performative measures and law enforcement crackdowns over systemic change that would address the root causes of drug use and addiction. Experts argue that rehabilitation, education, and prevention programs need funding levels comparable to those allocated to law enforcement if there’s any hope of reducing demand.
Solely blaming Mexican drug cartels for the fentanyl crisis is not only misleading—it’s dangerous. Calls for border walls and declarations of “war on cartels” may play well in political sound bites, but they sidestep critical questions about funding rehab programs and anti-drug education.
The widely perpetuated myth that fentanyl enters the U.S. primarily through unauthorized migrants crossing the southern border is contradicted by evidence: Most fentanyl seizures involve U.S. citizens returning from Mexico in private vehicles. In 2021, U.S. citizens made up 86.2 percent of fentanyl trafficking convictions. Meanwhile, only 0.02 percent of the people arrested by Border Patrol for crossing illegally possessed any fentanyl, an analysis from the libertarian, pro-immigration Cato Institute shows.
This narrative not only fuels xenophobia but also distracts from the far more insidious role of pharmaceutical companies, which profited from opioid prescriptions and now profit again through taxpayer-funded harm-reduction programs.
But addressing the opioid crisis requires more than blame-shifting—it demands courage, collaboration, and systemic change. The unfolding story in Kensington serves as a stark reminder that el sueño americano—the American dream—remains alive in the hearts of immigrants and long-standing residents who refuse to surrender to despair. But resilience alone isn’t enough. True change requires a holistic approach to the opioid crisis—one that prioritizes accountability, equity, and human dignity over political expediency.
Taking a holistic approach to tackle the problem won’t be easy or cheap. Solving the opioid crisis in Kensington and elsewhere in the U.S. requires intergovernmental cooperation to simultaneously address addiction, poverty, mental health, and economic investment.
The first step would be to prioritize comprehensive drug treatment and recovery services that go beyond short-term measures. That means funding long-term residential treatment facilities, in addition to outpatient counseling and wraparound services such as housing assistance and job training. The programs would also be culturally competent to meet the needs of Kensington’s diverse community. Integrating mental health care into addiction services is critical, as deep psychological traumas are often the root of substance abuse disorders.
Economic revitalization would be the second step. Kensington needs significant public and private investment in infrastructure, housing, and job creation initiatives to break the cycle of poverty that perpetuates addiction and despair. Incentivizing local businesses, supporting community-led cooperatives, and funding workforce development programs would create pathways to economic stability. Moreover, policies must protect long-term residents from displacement, ensuring that redevelopment benefits the existing community rather than pushing vulnerable populations further into the margins.
The third step requires coordination and accountability across all levels of government. Fragmented efforts—whether from NGOs, law enforcement, or local government agencies—must give way to integrated plans driven by deliverables, measurable goals, and transparent oversight. Partnerships between city, state, and federal authorities should align resources toward shared objectives while fostering open dialogue with Kensington’s residents to ensure their voices are central to decision-making. Only through this multilayered collaborative framework can Kensington transform from a symbol of urban blight and crisis into a model for resilience, recovery, and hope.
