Philly’s Pissed & Philly Stands Up- Collected Materials

By Timothy Coleman, Esteban Kelly & Em Squires
(get the PDF)


This collection of resources and writing deals with the subject of sexual assault, which may have intense connotations or bring up difficult feelings and memories. Please consider reading this when you are in a safe space or have some one available to talk to about the material if necessary.


These three pieces of writing are reflections on the work, approach, analysis, energy, and passion of Philly’s Pissed (PP) and Philly Stands Up (PSU). In a nutshell, PP provides direct support to survivors of sexual assault and PSU works with perpetrators of sexual assault to hold them accountable for their actions and to demand for changes in future behavior. PP formed in Philadelphia in August 2004 in response to a specific incident; PSU emerged as a separate group shortly thereafter in order to allow individual folks the agency to determine whether or not they felt comfortable working with perpetrators. As individuals and collectives, we are committed to survivor autonomy, perpetrator accountability, and to developing coordinated, radical and grassroots mechanisms to confront sexual assault in our communities.

Included in this collection you will find bios of the two groups with contact info, tidbits about the authors, our articles, and a list of resources ranging from some sweet zines to some common vocab we like to use to a sample collection of organizing principles from PSU.


The following terms should not be taken as some kind of psychobabble – vocabulary is one of the tools that allows us to reclaim our lives.

Sexual assault is a boundary violation involving someone’s body, their space, the way they are being talked to. Sexual assault can be a range of things, including rape, which to us is a more specific term.

In general, we use the word rape to refer to a penetrative sexual assault.
For an in-depth definition of consent, check out the next section.

We use the word survivor, instead of victim, because victim defines someone by what someone else has done to them. Survivor defines a person more by how they responded to the experience. Sexual assault can be a profoundly disempowering experience. We use the word survivor to centralize our commitment to actively attempt to restore power.

We use the term perpetrator because defining someone as an assaulter holds assumptions about what patterns of behavior will characterize their future, and our work at Philly Stands Up is based on the belief of that person changing.

We don’t use the word accusationbecause we always believe the survivor. An assault situation is always surrounded by rumor and doubt – in the justice system, among friends, everywhere. Part of our work, by building up institutions and groups like these, is to eventually create a cultural shift, but more immediately, to create in our groups one absolute space where there will be no question. This foundation of our work comes from both working closely with survivors and from there being people in both our groups who identify as survivors.

The concept of accountability is something that is often used in reference to individuals, specifically perpetrators. It refers to the behavior of someone who is responsible to a survivor for what they did. To be accountable is to do what the survivor needs to feel as okay as possible. In the bigger picture, accountability can apply to communities or groups of people, in terms of making sure that communities are responsible to a survivor as well.

Restorative justice deals with everybody’s needs in a situation, because when a person hurts another person – whether it’s sexual assault, theft, whatever – there are communities around that survivor who feel hurt and like they’ve been betrayed. Restorative justice tries to take the needs of anyone who has been hurt into account. It’s a more holistic approach.

Survivor autonomy is a way of describing one of our foundational concepts, which is that in working on a situation, though we might give information about different options, the survivor is always the person who decides what is going to happen, which is a way of restoring/redistributing power.

Working on your shit is a phrase you’ll encounter when working with perpetrators. It refers to the process of examining the behavioral patterns that led up to the assault, figuring out how to change, and being accountable to the people you’ve hurt.

Philly’s Pissed: Shifting the Balance of Power in Our Communities
by Timothy Colman

I could start with a story: in college, I was marginally involved with a campaign organizing to get the institution to pay its workers a living wage. I stayed on the outskirts though. The core members of the campaign were a handful of my closest friends — and the boy who’d sexually assaulted me two weeks after I arrived on campus. I avoided his gaze for many years, at parties, in the cafeteria, in the backseats of cars. When he joined the white anti-racist group I helped start, I’d stare at my hands through meetings about building trust and acting against oppression. Afterwards, I’d go home with the sweet girl I was dating and freeze up and shake while talking in her bed.

It’s a true story. I could tell it in riveting, emotive detail, but I’m just throwing it up here to say these things happen all the time. I know countless more stories like this. Maybe you do, too. Survivors of sexual assault are frequently pushed out of radical projects, out of political organizing, out of communities, because somehow perpetrators of assault and abuse have an easier time digging their feet in and staying. Or, there’s no way to even start talking, no space to start addressing these “personal issues”, and so we leave. So much of being assaulted is about having power taken away from you, and so much of the dominant way of dealing with survivors is about pushing these experiences into the shadows. How do survivors begin to say that we shouldn’t be pushed out of our work and communities, that we are at least as important to radical movements as abusers and perpetrators?

When I moved to Philadelphia, I had a long history of involvement in radical and queer communities. And I’d also done a lot of work around sexual assault: facilitating workshops on consent and acquaintance sexual assault prevention for incoming first-years at my college, helping to run a survivors’ support group, serving as a peer counselor on the college-sponsored sexual assault response team. But these two arenas had never overlapped. Sexual violence wasn’t seen as an issue to organize around within the radical communities I was connected to, and there were no channels for dealing with the “I Can’t Focus on the Work Cause the Boy Who Assaulted Me Keeps Coming to the Meetings” conundrum. And the political alliances I had with people also doing work around sexual violence were tenuous at best. Largely, the work we did together was about assault prevention, individual psychological healing and maybe pressing charges in a court of law or the college’s disciplinary system. I found that most of the people I was working with were oblivious to the impact of sexual assault on queer, trans and male survivors. And I had serious misgivings about presenting the criminal justice system as the primary option to survivors who wanted to take action. I supported survivors who chose to engage with the law, but I knew the criminal justice system wasn’t the solution; I was already working against its own kind of violence, the violence inflicted and legitimated by the state. And when I went to court to support a survivor who chose to press charges against her assaulter, I saw firsthand the abusive and traumatizing way the criminal justice system treats survivors of sexual assault. The work I was doing around sexual violence didn’t contain a vision of transformation; I didn’t find within it the courage and momentum to challenge the world around me to become a place where survivors of abuse and assault could live fully and wholly and be believed and respected.

Then I arrived in Philadelphia, and found Philly’s Pissed and Philly Stands Up.

Philly’s Pissed works against sexual assault in our communities. While the group emerged in response to a series of assaults at a punk rock show in Philadelphia, “our communities” have shifted and expanded to include overlapping queer and radical communities located in West Philadelphia as well as a web of contacts within related communities across the United States and Canada. We provide direct support to survivors, and we do education and advocacy promoting survivor autonomy and perpetrator accountability. We work in tandem with Philly Stands Up to create a community response to sexual violence and provide an alternative to the criminal justice system, which we believe frequently retraumatizes survivors

A survivor will approach a member of Philly’s Pissed and ask for support in dealing with a situation. Our job is to help them figure out what support they need in that moment and help them figure out how to get it, then remain in the picture after their immediate needs are met and they begin the process of figuring out what justice and healing will mean to them. Our work is always done confidentially unless the survivor requests otherwise. Survivor support can look like a lot of different things: talking someone through a crisis, validating their emotional response to an assault, helping them find a safe place to crash, going with them to the doctor or an abortion clinic, aiding them in dealing with dissociation or panic attacks, or organizing friends to cook meals or provide childcare for them. We provide direct emotional support, but we also encourage survivors to tap into the support networks they already have. This can range from helping someone strategize about how to ask their friends or family for support, to actually providing a training on crisis support, survivor-sensitivity and the aftermath of trauma for a political organization or a community.

Our work proceeds from a certain set of assumptions. First, we believe survivors. We trust survivors’ accounts of what they have experienced. Even in radical communities, people often demand “proof” or require details of an assault before they will support a survivor. This is often invasive and hostile; it adds to the silencing and shaming that survivors often face already. We want to create communities that are free of these attitudes. Second, we believe in survivor autonomy. What that means is that the survivor is always in control and always gets to decide what happens next. We are there to facilitate the process, talk things through, suggest possible options, connect them with resources and information, and act as intermediaries. We never tell a survivor what they “should” do, and we never never never take action that the survivor has not asked us to take. Along these lines, we support and facilitate the survivor’s decision-making; we do not tell them what decisions to make. Third, we use harm reduction strategies to aid survivors’ in making decisions. Harm reduction is a decision-making strategy that encourages full understanding of the situation at hand, including risks, and prioritizes helping people strategize about how to best keep themselves safe while respecting the choices they make. For instance, if a survivor is really upset and just wants to go out and get wasted, we say, “Okay. You want to go out and get drunk. Do you have any concerns about the safety of doing that? How can we guard against those concerns? Are there people you can go out and get drunk with who will keep you safe and make sure you get home okay?” Similarly, if a survivor is considering pursuing legal action against a perpetrator, we provide them with the knowledge we have about what that might look like, the aspects of it that are often dehumanizing and retraumatizing, but we would never tell a survivor not to press charges or withdraw our support if they chose to do so. The harm reduction approach is crucial to our work, because we believe that part of healing is taking back power that’s been taken from you. Many survivors of sexual assault struggle with feeling powerless or like they lack control over their lives. If, in the course of supporting a survivor, you mark certain actions as “healthy” and “unhealthy”, offer a prescription for the correct way to heal or tell them how they should feel, you are effectively taking power away once more.

We also facilitate survivors in figuring out what they need to feel safe, whole and in control of their lives again. For many survivors, though certainly not all, this involves taking some kind of action with regard to their assault. One popular strategy is for a survivor to create a list of “demands” for the perpetrator to meet. If a survivor is interested in creating a list of demands, we encourage them to envision what would make them feel safe and more in control of their lives again, and what would make them feel that the person who assaulted them is being held accountable for their actions. Demands might include that a perpetrator do self-education around consent, write a letter taking responsibility for the assault(s), examine their substance use, or leave spaces when the survivor is present. Frequently, if a survivor creates a list of demands, they will ask that someone from Philly Stands Up works with the perpetrator in ensuring that they meet the demands.

Survivor demands have become a popular model in certain circles of how to do grassroots accountability work. I want to emphasize that there are limits to this model; for instance, it can place too much emphasis on the response of the perpetrator. Often, a perpetrator will not agree to meet demands, or will appear willing to engage on the surface but in the end, will refuse to substantively change their behavior in any way. This can be frustrating for the survivor; if they’ve placed all their faith in the demands model, it can be devastating. Making our communities more supportive of survivors and aware of survivor needs is a major goal of our education and advocacy work, because if we shift the balance of power in our communities in favor of survivors, we create more possibilities and channels for community accountability work. We believe it is the responsibility of our communities to end sexual assault and to get perpetrators to change. In the past, survivors have demanded that radical spaces prevent a perpetrator from entering the space when they are present; they’ve asked collectives to bar a perpetrator from attending organizing meetings when they are present. Other actions that survivors have taken include passing out flyers with details about the perpetrator and their patterns, distributing a public call-out asking individuals to spit on a perpetrator, and asking people to stop supporting a perpetrator’s work financially.

I recently saw Andrea Smith speak, and she described how INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence began to formulate an anti-colonial response to ending gendered violence. INCITE! saw that there were staggering problems with the current options available to women of color who were survivors of violence. Most anti-domestic violence programs in the United States started out as grassroots projects but are now federally-funded non-profits; many of them even reside in police stations. Their primary solution to gendered violence increasingly seems to be to use the police and legal system to “protect” women. But initiatives such as mandatory arrest laws for domestic violence have taken control away from battered women and have not proven successful at ending gendered violence. And for women of color, whose communities are already the target of state violence (such as colonialism, police brutality, criminalization of youth, and prison abuse), calling the cops and inviting the arm of the state into their lives is often not a viable option. INCITE! saw the need for a solution that attacked state violence and interpersonal violence simultaneously. They began to organize activist institutes that asked: If there’s violence in our communities, is there anything we can do besides calling the police? The idea was that adequate options did not exist — even restorative justice models often break down when they’re applied to sexual assault and domestic violence situations — so communities would have to gather ideas together and try them out. Smith calls this approach “revolution through trial and error”. INCITE! has produced a number of stunning resources for anyone doing community accountability work, including the INCITE! Community Accountability Working Document [link], a list of potential strategies with which to experiment.

“Revolution through trial and error” is a good way to describe our approach. Philly’s Pissed is deeply invested in doing community accountability work around sexual assault, creating alternatives to the criminal justice system, transforming our communities and ending sexual violence. But we’re not experts, and we don’t have all the answers. We have very few models to work from; we’re pulling bits and pieces from different places, translating them to our context, patching it together and making it up as we go along. In the sexual assault work I’d done before I found Philly’s Pissed, it seemed that the options available for survivors were 1) Press criminal charges, 2) Get counseling to fix the “damage” done to you by the assault, or 3) Do nothing. This set of possibilities is deeply, deeply flawed; it is paltry and inadequate. The only model for justice is offered through the disempowering, retraumatizing criminal justice system, which is frequently the site of violence itself; the only model for healing is for people to work through their trauma individually, with the help of a professional. We believe that justice and healing are intertwined, and that transforming our communities is a key aspect of both; we are working together to envision new possibilities and try them out.

We believe that support and accountability work is best done by people who are within the same communities as the survivor and can understand specific dynamics at play. Philly’s Pissed is frequently in contact with survivors and supporters from across the U.S. and Canada, who contact us seeking support and advice. But distance makes it difficult to do this work effectively. Emails and the occasional phone call are a poor subsitute for supporting someone in person, and it’s difficult to do community accountability work or understand the context that someone is dealing with when they’re 3,000 miles away. We encourage people to organize against sexual assault in their own communities, and create structures for supporting survivors and holding perpetrators accountable. In the past, we’ve done trainings for groups of people aiming to start projects similar to PP/PSU, explaining the way we function and problems we’ve run into along the way. In the end, this work looks different depending on where it’s being done and who’s doing it. Nonetheless, it’s useful to share things we’ve learned along the way, and we hope that other projects can take what we share and avoid making some of the same mistakes we did.

We know that anyone can be a survivor (or a perpetrator) of sexual assault. It’s important not to portray sexual assault as though it only happens along clear identity lines; in particular, it’s important to recognize that it is not just women who are assaulted and it is not just men who are perpetrators of assault. However, sexual assault is often used as a tool of power and violence within a web of systems and structures that deny people’s bodily autonomy and both individual and community self-determination. All of our lives are touched by these oppressive structures, but we’re not all disempowered in the same way; we don’t all face the same kinds of violence. Philly’s Pissed is constantly working to understand the context that swirls around our work, and to learn from similar work being done by other groups and in other contexts.

Survivors of abuse and assault need to be able to articulate what they need, and demand it, with the knowledge that they will be believed and supported. Even within radical communities, there’s a pervasive tendency to blame and silence survivors. When sexual assault causes divisive upheaval within radical organizing, when violence causes fragmentation in our communities, the survivors of that violence are frequently blamed for speaking up about it, told the fallout is their fault, that they are “hurting the struggle.” Philly’s Pissed seeks to shift the culture of our radical communities to one that believes survivors and supports us in stating our truths and taking up space.

Philly Stands Up- Our Approach, Our Analysis
by Esteban Kelly

Our point of departure is drastically different from mainstream analysis of sexual assault as it pertains to both survivors and perpetrators. In Philly Stands Up we always begin with an assessment of how we can support and take direction from survivors of sexual assault. Though the vast majority of our organizing is direct work with perpetrators, our view is that these efforts are perhaps the most important way that our group supports survivors and, by extension, the community of radical organizers of which we are a part.
Our project is an enabling project. Healthy individuals and safe spaces provide the basic foundation and capacity for people to kick ass in reconfiguring our society into one characterized by socio-economic justice and compassionate interpersonal dynamics.

When a sexual assault is committed, the entire community is affected. As organizers, addressing the harm to survivors and the community is an important way of sustaining organizing more broadly. Thus, three fundamental approaches to our work:

    – A steadfast commitment to supporting survivors through centralizing their needs to assert control and power in their lives and surroundings. Also, because Philly Stands Up is firmly against violent retribution in principle, we focus our energy into creating positive mechanisms that validate and support survivors.
    – The belief in the particularity of each sexual assault situation, and with it, a unique effort and opportunity for the perpetrator to better understand physical, sexual, and emotional boundaries and communication
    – The intrinsic importance of humanizing perpetrators; to be grounded in compassion as a source of strength in persevering through very difficult work and transgressing the ubiquitous alienation that haunts everyone affected by sexual assault situations.

In Philly Stands Up, we tether our work to reaching out to perpetrators of sexual assault while maintaining the centrality of the survivors, from whom we take our cues in determining the actions and progress that need to transpire for the overall healing in assault aftermath. The key mental shift that sets us on a new path in sexual assault community organizing is in refusing to distance ourselves from perpetrators of sexual assault, or even to presume that all perpetrators could be characterized by a particular moment of awful behavior.

It was only after we had spent time working with perpetrators (and of course survivors) that our current analysis really took form. On the one hand, in the aftermath of a sexual assault survivors can feel a loss of power and control over their bodies, their environment, their lives and their community. Our work, therefore, is grounded in helping to empower survivors (directly or indirectly) by aiding them in feeling safe and by assisting them in exerting control over their selves, their space and the world around them. On the other hand, the perpetrator has lost the trust of the survivor and the community. This trust is not just lost in terms of sex, but also in terms of social relationships, politics, and solidarity.

Those directly and indirectly affected by sexual assault are reluctant to trust the perpetrator as an organizer, worker, neighbor, performer, leader, roommate, or peer. So our work in Philly Stands Up is to help rebuild trust. To interrupt what may be patterns in the behavior of perpetrators of sexual assault. This commitment to work with rather than punish or criminalize the perpetrator is imperative to them once again becoming fully functional, trustworthy, and participating members of the community. In some cases survivors may still not want the perpetrator to be in their community. In Philly Stands Up we do what we can to support the wishes of the survivor and see the work of restoring trust and responsibility to perpetrators as essential to any community in which they will end up living. For that reason, one of the main functions we provide in our community is as a buffer, where we can distinguish ourselves as a more appropriate space for perpetrators to vent their concerns, frustrations, and perspective while coming to terms with and understanding the implications of their actions. In this way we hold perpetrators accountable for their analysis and behavior, and prevent future assaults by facilitating personal growth on both fronts.

One of our main contentions with most standard treatment of perpetrators of sexual assault is that they are typically dismissed as criminals. We call for a closer look at the people, their behavior and the social dynamics that surround sexual assault to be considered much more thoroughly in order to effectively rectify the damages that result from sexual assault situations and ultimately prevent them from occurring at all. In our experience, when pre-established structures like this are in place, people called out for sexual assault have been less likely to cling to defensiveness and denial since they can trust that there will be space for things to be worked out, and they are also less likely to fear immediate physical harm.

In taking a closer look at typical responses to sexual assault beyond radical communities, we noticed that perpetrators are rarely factored into the daily lives of the community at large. Instead, perpetrators are punitively shuffled off to various criminalizing apparatuses (strongly linked to the prison industrial complex), and left out of what we see as highly gendered social services, which focus almost exclusively on (non-trans) female survivors. It must be clear that our group does not outright refute the resources (legal, social, and otherwise) that are available for these women. We certainly recognize the importance of such services and see other local organizations as allies by and large in our work. However, in doing so, we remain acutely aware of the limitations of their impact, most notably in losing sight of the ultimate goal of breaking the cycle of sexual assault, and in neglecting to serve the diversity of classes, genders, ethnicities, linguistic communities (e.g. English & Spanish speakers) and so on, that do not neatly coincide with the target population of certain women-only resources.

Those of us in Philly Stands Up refuse to pretend that sexual assault only constitutes a certain action among certain persons (i.e. rape of women by men). Anyone can be assaulted. Anyone is capable of transgressing somebody else’s boundaries. Our analysis (which is by no means a “definition”) encompasses and extends beyond rape- in its most strict sense- to include any situation that a survivor identifies as a breach of a particular boundary, or a lack of consent in a sexual situation. We distance ourselves from the criminal justice outlook that demands “objective facts” be presented to a judge and jury, a trend we have seen in our community, and many others. Philly Stands Up goes beyond that, seeking to reconcile all of the pieces of a situation. We acknowledge that clarity and guilt aside, people involved in the messy business that we find ourselves in are hurt, and feel that something painful and difficult has transpired, whether or not it would be “legally” recognized as assault. And regardless of the specifics, there are relationships that need to be healed or perhaps kept apart with community support.

It is worth noting that as organizers in Philly Stands Up the other half of our work is a proactive campaign to stimulate and embolden “a culture of sexual responsibility.” This is a broader preventative educational project that includes a multi-sited animation of intentions, actions, and expectations that raise consciousness around all moments of (potential) sexual behavior. This is ambitious, but vitally important work. In this other mode of our work, we create workshops, trainings, and consultations where we try to stimulate deep commitments to clearer communication that fosters consent and mutuality. When we are invited to speak at conferences, or to campuses and grassroots groups we don’t show up tell other people how communication is done, but rather help to tease out the local character and specificity of each group or community’s norms of conduct to maximize mutual understanding and respect for personal or group boundaries. In spite of the heavy work that addressing sexual assault necessitates, we see all of that balanced by assembling working, positive models of consent. Hence one of our (many) unofficial mottoes: Consent is sexy! Each of us can be enablers for people in our lives to find new and particular ways to enact that. Imagine positive sexual encounters declined, postponed, and felt, unspoken, signaled, whispered, and yes, beckoned in a multitude of articulations.

Finally, the type of work we do in Philly Stands Up should not be ghettoized and left to the purview of sexual assault organizers from city to city, but incorporated into the routine functions of any organizing collective. Through an explosion of our project- to holistically heal communities and invigorate sexual responsibility everywhere, all of the time- we strengthen one another as organizers with deeper trust and more salient accountability. We believe in spaces, where sex and physicality are varyingly turned down, spiced up, and deal with confidentially but forthrightly. That honesty can and should be as much a part of our organizing as the daily decisions we make to upend injustice in order to exist in this world in radically new ways.

Philly Stands Up- Grounding our work
by Em Squires

Relationships are slippery and wet like water. I can feel a relationship touch the flesh of my heart or the skin of my back, and I know it is there because I can feel that presence asking for my attention. I cannot explain the work of Philly Stands Up without talking about relationships. They explain how I got involved and why I stay committed. Our model and processes are rooted in a criss-crossed web of friendships we share with eachother, the working relationship(s) PSU builds with perpetrators of sexual assault, and each of our individual commitment to PSU as an organizing collective.

Almost two years ago, I decided to move to Philly. I couldn’t afford New York City and needed to get the hell out of the Midwest. I didn’t have a job, but I had a place to live with my friend Nic. Stevie and Nic raved about the magnitude of Philly’s awesome-ness and how much I would love it. So I did either the stupidest or bravest thing I’ve ever done – I packed a van, maxed out my credit card, and dropped a cannonball into the pool of my future with a vague agenda to “find some work” and, hopefully, meet some new people who would inspire and challenge me. Sink or swim. Either way, I would feel the water.

It was Stevie who sent me the email inviting me to my first PSU meeting. I had been in Philly for just over six months, working a demoralizing service job and was painfully clawing my way out of an abusive relationship. I was not in a great place. It was a long email, certainly the most formal email I’d ever received from him, but by the time I finished reading, my pulse was racing. Work with perpetrators of sexual assault? Engage with building a culture of consent within a sex-positive framework? I didn’t even really know what that meant. My own organizing background was grounded in anti-oppression youth organizing and the labor movement, with some work on gender, affirmative action, and independent media thrown into the mix. I was a teaching artist posing as a waitress – what did I know about working with perpetrators of assault? I went to the meeting not knowing what to expect. I left feeling like I had just breathed pure, undiluted oxygen for two hours.

It was early June, almost a year ago. I didn’t know a person in the room except for Stevie – but I could feel the energy prickle my skin, passionately delicate and oh-so-insistent. PSU members who were about to step back from the collective for various reasons – school, family, needing space, etc – talked about the history of the group, the Points of Unity, etc – and then we all went around and talked about why we were there, present in the room on this random Sunday evening. I had never even been part of an activist group that was so committed to process that we wrote down our organizing principles! And here I was – invited into a space that would never ask me to justify why I identify as queer, that would never question the “validity” or experience of being a queer woman in a f***ed up relationship with another woman, and would not only demand but value my voice, my agency, and my ability to articulate and respect my own limits. Although I was initially intimidated by my lack of relevant “experience,” the energy and interests of everyone present very quickly had me doing some quick internal surveys. Fine, I had never worked in this “field,” either academically or politically. However, the work I had just heard described to me was based on listening skills, relationship building, the belief that behavior can change, complex, radical, and queer-oriented analyses of power across multiple communities and potential identities, resource development, grassroots education, and a commitment to building a more sex-positive and responsible culture.
I was down with that.

Our work isn’t about fixing people. First of all, a perpetrator has to want to “work on their shit” – that’s our colloquial umbrella phrase to refer to a perpetrator who is willing to engage with us on the issue(s) at hand. The shit can include, but is certainly not limited to: a specific incident or [repeated] behavioral pattern of emotional, physical and/or sexual assault with an intimate partner or random stranger (or any person on the interpersonal spectrum in between), substance and alcohol abuse, mental health, and any number of other influencing factors. We are not “professional” therapists or social workers or health care professionals – we are a collective of individuals with all sorts of organizing experience(s) and interests and committed to radical social change. We share and constantly engage with an evolving analysis (see our Points of Unity for some examples) which influences not only how we approach situations and perpetrators as unique experiences, but also with our own internal group dynamic and intro-collective processing.

We don’t often “find” situations (what we call each separate “case,” usually involving a perpetrator, a chain of events, and some request for action and/or resources) – situations usually find us. Since we’ve been around for a couple years, we don’t have to do much self-promotion, and in reality, don’t have the member-capacity to do high-volume work. What happens most often is either a perpetrator will contact us, having heard about us through some workshop, friend, referral, etc and initiate contact and somehow communicate zi’s desire to “work on hir shit,” OR we’ll begin to work with a perpetrator via a shared situation with Philly’s Pissed. [I’m using gender-neutral pronouns here for two reasons: 1) PSU seeks to support and be an ally to trans folks in whatever ways we can, and part of that is being conscious of how we use basic pronoun language; and 2) We don’t want our language to perpetuate the myth that sexual assault is limited to heteronormative situations in which the man is the perpetrator and the woman is the survivor. Anyone – regardless of gender – can be a survivor or a perpetrator of assault.]

We do not have a magic “perpetrator-free” stamp that absolves someone from whatever pain they have caused another person or community; we work to build an honest and accountable space with perpetrators. This demands a good faith effort from both directions. I have friends who upon finding out about the subject of my Sunday night meetings, are like, “What the fuck are you doing? why perpetrators? none of those programs ever work.” Valid response. But PSU isn’t a program. No one is more aware than we are that we can’t work with every perpetrator. In some cases, perpetrators are also survivors of other situations. We try to see the whole person and the whole situation, however complex, and remain aware of our limitations.

It isn’t easy to go step-by-step through our process, since it’s different each time. Typically, we’ll begin to work with a perpetrator either through a referral through Pissed or because someone will email us directly and ask for help or resources. We meet weekly, and commit to “tasks” – whether it’s contacting someone about a workshop, working on an article for a zine, doing research, working on a situation, or being the group’s email checker for the week. We do a decent job of checking our mail, and it’s the responsibility of the email checker to not only check the emails, but to respond based on the time sensitivity of what is emailed (either a “do you need to talk so someone in an hour” or a “can we check in about your request at our meeting on Sunday, which is four days away” type of response). Every meeting starts with a personal check-in and ends with a check-out, and includes a mixture of debriefing current situations and “tasking” new situations, discussing or planning upcoming workshops, projects, or proposals, or doing internal educational work. Committing to work on a situation depends upon what information we know, who can do the work – not only logistically, but also with respect to personal limits and triggers.

We understand that we have to have the capacity and resources to be an ally in the specifics of any given situation. Sometimes, we don’t. We are learning that it is one thing to offer advice and recommend resources and try and connect folks with local support over distance (we get a lot of emails from people in all parts of the country), but that working with perpetrators over distance is incredibly difficult. We always work in teams on situations, so working over distance in teams requires phone calls, chats, and all manners of creative communication and scheduling. When we are able to work locally, we set up initial meetings in public places where everyone feels safe. Whether working locally or over distance, we are committed to centralizing survivor demands. This can look like making sure that copies of therapy receipts are available to whomever needs to see them, facilitating meetings with community members, or helping write letters of explanation/apology.

We’re not passing judgement on having long-distance relationships – but we are slowly realizing that the intimacy and honesty and reliance upon our gut feelings and intuition that we base our work upon is exponentially more facilitated by engaging with perpetrators face-to-face. It’s just a different dynamic. Working with perpetrators, situation by situation, requires that we are continuously checking in with ourselves (individually and collectively) about where we are at, what we need, how we feel, what hurts, what is too much, where is the wall? We can do, feel, and trust this more when we operate in real time.

My commitment to PSU is the healthiest relationship I’ve ever experienced with an activist collective. I don’t have to feel guilty about my time limits – for example, at the time of this writing, I haven’t been able to go to an actual meeting in at least a month because of my work schedule, but my ability to commit to write this article and pull together resources for this zine is internally embraced as a valid part of our work. My emotional boundaries are respected – and furthermore, my efforts to even articulate my boundaries in the first place are appreciated as necessary. People step up and step back on a week-to-week basis. Literally. I was a little dubious that this function of the collective was actually the truth, but I personally have been proven wrong multiple times. I have learned that working with PSU demands a lot of honesty. I have to be honest with myself about my own triggers, limits, boundaries, needs. I have to trust my friends in PSU to help me both identify and respect what I can and cannot do. I have to be able to hear each of their own capacity for our work. I think our commitment to healthy activism works because we centralize it at our meetings (by framing with personal check-ins and check-outs), we have pre-existing/outside-of-PSU friendships and shared/local social networks that are incredibly powerful, and because there is a shared common and radical analysis of power and oppression – which informs not only our Points of Unity, but also our ability to just be there for each other and create a safe space (which isn’t to say that we don’t work to develop that space and challenge ourselves). I can only speak for myself, but I know I approach relationships (whether platonic, intimate, or somewhere in between) in a fundamentally different way since I joined PSU.

I am a more confident and thoughtful communicator and I stick up for myself and my boundaries, needs, desires, and dreams a hell of a lot more. Our space is safe, but we are not stagnant – and neither is our work nor our process.

Drop us a line at


PP/PSU – What is consent? – Compiled from a joint flier

Consent is an agreement that people must make if they want to have sexual contact. The issue of consent can be a complicated and ambiguous area that needs to be addressed with clear, open and honest communication. Keep these points in mind if you are not sure consent has been established.

All partners need to be fully conscious and aware. The use of alcohol or other substances can interfere with someone’s ability to make clear decisions about the level of intimacy they are comfortable with. The more intoxicated a person is, the less able they are able to give conscious consent.

All partners are equally free to act. The decision to be sexually intimate must be without coercion. Both partners must have the option to chose to be intimate or not. Both partners should be free to change “yes” to “no” at any time. Factors such as body size, previous assault, threats to “out” someone, and other fears can prevent an individual from freely consenting.

All partners clearly communicate their willingness and permission. Willingness and permission must be communicated clearly and unambiguously. Just because a person fails to resist sexual advances does not mean they are willing. Consent is not the absence of the word “no.”

All partners are positive and sincere in their desires. It is important to be honest in communicating feelings about consent. If one person states their desires, the other person can make informed decisions about the encounter.

You are never entitled.
Hitting on them before they’re drunk.
Knowing your own boundaries and asserting them.
Asking if they want to be touched, and if yes, how.
Stopping in the middle of whatever you are doing if they say so.
Asking “is this OK?” or “do you like this” throughout the experience.
Never assuming that just because they had sex or a specific sex act with you before, they will want to do it with you again.
Not punishing them because they won’t have sex with you.
Paying attention and stopping when you realize something is wrong.
Many different things to many people.
Enjoying yourself and your partner.
More than what can be defined on a piece of paper.

PSU – Points of Unity – Organizing Principles

Philly Stands Up – Points of Unity

We are a group dedicated to dealing with sexual assault.

Philly Stands Up formed in reaction to specific incidents of sexual assault in our community and will continue to exist as an avenue of support for the future as well as working on proactive means to deal with sexual assault.

We strive to take an active role in our communities and to deal with the deeper rooted causes of sexual assault by challenging sexist attitudes and deconstructing patriarchy in our daily lives. In this, we also recognize the interrelatedness of systems of oppression and work to confront them on all fronts.

We work to educate ourselves and others on issues in our society that contribute to sexual assault, as well as provide information to the public that will help confront these issues and provide access to resources that exist.

We acknowledge that socialization in a patriarchal society greatly affects how we view and deal with sexual assault. In this, we recognize that gender does not define a person and we welcome anyone who agrees to these points of unity into this group.
We are a group that survivors can come to for help and support. We will always support survivors and ensure survivor autonomy, where they will always be in control of how a situation is dealt with.

We work with perpetrators to recognize, understand, and change behavior, not to simply punish them or run them out of town. Dealing with an assaulter includes the long term goal of ensuring that they are not a threat to others, recognize what they have done, and work to permanently change their behavior.

We do not support the prison system as a viable means of rehabilitation for assaulters, but we will always support a survivor’s wishes and engage the legal system on any level necessary.

We are dedicated to this issue and this group. We all promise to ensure that our level of commitment is clear and consistent. This includes a time commitment and accountability to tasks that we agree to take on.

There is no hierarchy within this group. We make decisions as a group with casual consensus, but will call on using formal consensus for making serious decisions.
We value communication and honesty in our interactions. We practice active listening and do not attack one another, but rather work through conflicting views. We are not interested in “PC” responses, but communication of our true understanding/feelings.
Members of the group may at any time step back from an issue or situation that is being acted on by the group if they feel that they need to or that they cannot be objective.
We operate under strict confidentiality in both our work as an action group and as a support group. Information shared within the group, stays within the group, unless consensed upon by the entire group.

We work in tandem with Philly’s Pissed and hold our group accountable to theirs. Certain situations may also call for Philly’s Pissed to be accountable to us.

We strive to include and support anyone who has been targeted for sexual assault, sexual abuse, gender-based assault, or gender-based abuse. This includes all sexual and gender representations and identities.

We believe anyone can be assaulted. Sexual assault and abuse are not solely contained within heterosexual and gender-normative relationships.

We always assume the best intentions of one another. Recognizing that none of us can be completely articulate in communicating our thoughts, we give time and space for clarity on things that may be hard to hear. We will work through the inherent difficulties between communication and misunderstanding.


Incite! Women of Color Against Violence

Communities Against Rape & Abuse (Seattle WA)

The Color of Violence: The Incite! Anthology

Incite! Community Accountability Working Document [link]

Support/Apoyo zine, (english/spanish versions) edited by Cindy Ovenrack Crabb

Interview with Philly’s Pissed and Philly Stands Up – Give Me Back #51 – Seein Red – write Give Me Back, PO Box 73691, Washington DC, 20056

Witch-Hunt: Addressing Mental Health and Confronting Sexual Assault in Activist Communities – by Annie Axiety – [link]

Let’s Talk About Consent, Baby – by The Down There Health Collective – or

What do we do when? A zine about community response to sexual assault. #2 –

Dori’s 21 – Cindy at PO Box 1734 Asheville NC 28802

Not without my consent –

On the road to healing: a booklet for men against sexism – Planting Seeds Press, PO Box 33368, Austin TX 78764

I’m having a long sequence of Déjà Vu: Issue #1 – The Society for Community, Self and Earth-

No More Denying: Facing Woman-to-Woman Sexual Violence – Lori B. Girshick, PhD [link]


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