07/05/2026
The greatest legacy any public servant can leave isn’t found in the office they held. It’s found in the lives they shaped. Shirley Kitchen shaped mine.
Today, like countless Philadelphians, I mourn the passing of former State Senator Shirley Kitchen.
Senator Kitchen was more than a mentor to me. She was family. She was an essential part of the village that raised me. As a child, I spent countless hours in my father John Street’s City Council office, surrounded by the women and men of City Hall who looked after me as if I were their own. Shirley was one of those people. From the time I was about eight years old, she took it upon herself to encourage me, challenge me, and help shape the values that would guide my life. Long before she became Senator Kitchen, she was simply Aunt Shirley.
Aunt Shirley loved deeply, expected the best from you, and never hesitated to tell you when you had fallen short. But even her toughest lessons came from a place of love and an unwavering belief that you could do better.
Before she ever took the oath of office, Shirley Kitchen was an organizer, activist, and community leader. She was part of a generation that transformed Philadelphia politics in the 1970s and 1980s, helping build a movement that brought political power to working-class Black and Brown communities that had for too long been shut out of the halls of government. That movement helped elect leaders like my father, but its purpose was always much larger than any one person or campaign. Shirley Kitchen believed government should belong to everyone, especially those who had been denied a seat at the table. As a former social worker, she carried that conviction throughout her public life. She fought to expand access to quality health care, increase affordable housing opportunities, improve the lives of low-income Philadelphians, and ensure that government worked for those who needed it most.
Years later, shortly after graduating from college, I had the privilege of working in Senator Kitchen’s Senate office. She saw something in me before I fully saw it in myself. She gave me an opportunity early in my career and taught me that public service isn’t about power. It’s about purpose. Her example shaped not only the kind of legislator I strive to be, but the kind of person I aspire to be.
She was also years ahead of her time on criminal justice reform. Before many people were willing to have those conversations, Senator Kitchen understood that justice had to include redemption. As a young staff member, I had the privilege of working alongside her on legislation to restore voting rights for Pennsylvanians returning home after serving their sentences. That experience fundamentally shaped my understanding of justice and inspired my lifelong commitment to creating pathways, not barriers, for people rebuilding their lives.
When Senator Kitchen retired in 2016, I was humbled to continue the work she began by representing the Third Senatorial District. I have never taken that responsibility lightly because I knew whose footsteps I was following.
There is no way to fully measure Senator Kitchen’s legacy. It lives on not only in the legislation she championed and the lives she touched, but in the generations of public servants she inspired and mentored along the way. I will always be grateful for her guidance, her faith in me, and the example she set. As I mourn her passing, I know I will continue to carry the lessons Aunt Shirley taught me throughout my life and my service to the people of Philadelphia.
April and I extend our deepest condolences to Senator Kitchen’s family, friends, former staff, and all those whose lives she touched. May her memory be a blessing, and may her extraordinary legacy continue to inspire generations to come.
