This story is part of a digital issue of Queer Kentucky surrounding Harm Reduction and its intersection with the LGBTQ+ community.⁠ Check out the full digital issue here.

Ryan Jones still remembers his family handing him a one-way ticket to Louisville in his hometown of Richmond, Va. Struggling with substance abuse, Jones was told he was either going to go to Louisville to enter a recovery program or he was going to be cut off from the family’s resources. Begrudgingly, Jones took the ticket, which—while he may not have known at the time—was also his first step toward a new life, one defined not by substances but by affecting real, positive change. 

Today, Jones works as an administrator with the Kentucky Harm Reduction Coalition, an organization that strives to “reduce substance use disorder overdoses and deaths, the stigma associated with substance use disorder, and to offer harm reduction solutions.” Jones is over two years clean, has a loving and revitalized relationship with his family, and now spends his days working to curtail the dangerous consequences of substance use, building a more hopeful future not only for himself but also for countless others.

Jones was raised by his grandfather in Richmond as the oldest of 17 grandkids. As a kid, he recalls having been a bit spoiled growing up by his grandpa, a prominent pastor in their Virginia community. While he remembers it being hurtful at the time to hear such a direct ultimatum given by his family about getting clean, looking back on it now, he says, “I didn’t realize it, but when they were sending me out here, it was harm reduction that they used—you know, to be able to meet me where I was—which caused me to actually do a lot of life-altering changes in my life that enabled me to begin to really be a productive citizen again.”

During his journey through recovery in Louisville, Jones discovered the KYHRC and began to understand the idea of harm reduction in general. Learning about the very concept—the practice of mitigating the negative impacts and consequences of drug use and its associated risks—opened his eyes to different avenues of aid. While many may see drug use in a binary of clean or using, Jones was able to understand modalities of assistance that met people in the in-between, helping them make safer choices and reduce the risk of more dire outcomes. “Utilizing harm reduction allowed me to be able to navigate through life a lot easier,” he attests. “It meant that anybody that I talked to wasn’t going to judge me or look down upon me.”

The day Jones made his own decision to stop using altogether was Valentine’s Day 2023, and with it coming on the heels of tempestuous family conflict and challenging personal reflection, he remembers that “it was definitely the best kind of love I could have ever given myself.” Eight months later, he began working at the KYHRC. Given Jones’s clerical background, he was originally hired as a project manager for the coalition’s Health and Wellness Lounge, a safe and welcoming space that provides harm reduction resources to those looking for it. He was provided a budget, a timeline, and from there took the opportunity to prove himself. “I went in with everything I got,” he says. “And I was able to meet the time constraints as well as stay under the budget that they wanted me to spend. And so they were like, ‘You know what, you’re a keeper right here.’”

Now, Jones works day to day to advance the work of the KYHRC. As an administrator, he gets the phone calls, the emails, the “Contact Us” forms from the website. He also works in distribution and outreach—as the coalition is located in Downtown Louisville, they’re mindful of broadening their orbit beyond the immediate area. “That allows us to be able to send out safe use tools, condoms, fentanyl test strips, different things of that nature to be able to, you know, reduce the harm out there,” he explains. “And so we send out thousands and thousands of utensils and tools on a daily basis. … We also want to make sure that we’re reaching people that are outside of our downtown community. So we’re able to actually mail them these tools to be able to assist them in their daily living.”

Indeed, getting the tools of harm reduction to those who need it most is at the very center of the KYHRC’s mission; Naloxone (brand name: Narcan) distribution is one of their primary forms of aid. They also offer training around how and when to use Naloxone to ensure that those who need it don’t just have it, but also understand it. Additionally, the organization offers services focused on syringes, hepatitis C and HIV testing, mobile outreach, fentanyl and xylazine test strips and the aforementioned Health and Wellness Lounge, which provides a safe space for those looking for support on their journey to better health. Kiosks located on their campus allow the community free access to test strips and Naloxone as well as informational materials on harm reduction and substance use.

While critical for any population, these services, Jones notes, are of particular import to LGBTQ folks. As an individual who is HIV-positive, Jones understands that what the KYHRC offers is so imperative to those who may be more susceptible to the dangers of unsafe practices. “You know, everyone isn’t as safe as they may claim to be,” he says. “Everyone may not be practicing the best safety. And so it’s very important to utilize safe tools. Being able to practice these skills will actually help to prevent the spread of any diseases or, you know, anything that is contractible by sharing utensils.”

Jones, having been through recovery himself, sees the need in the community not only for the KYHRC’s services but also for the education around the definition of harm reduction. “A lot of people really think, when they hear harm reduction, they think, ‘Y’all giving away drugs,’” he says. “No, we’re not. We’re not giving away drugs. No, what we are doing is making sure that if you choose not to go into abstinence recovery that you are able to at least assist yourself until you are ready or until you want to at least make a small change or take the steps to where you may want to go.”

By sharing his story and working every day with people who are in similar places to where he once was, Jones hopes to enact real change in his community, change he has the power to affect because he has lived through it. “If I can at least help somebody, one person a day, I’m adding to the change,” he says. “And I often tell people I want to be the change. I don’t just want to hear about the change. I don’t just want to talk about the change. I want to be the change.” And with his empowering outlook, unshakable tenacity and commitment to action, there’s no question he’s making a genuine difference, a difference that impacts not only individuals in the immediate but also the upward trajectory of better health and more intentional compassion in Louisville and beyond.