Northern Kentucky’s LGBTQ+ Paradox: Legal Protections at Home Contend with Restrictions at the Statehouse(s)

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Queer Kentucky’s survey data highlights a region where residents may be physically safer, yet still carry the state’s heaviest mental burden.

LGBTQ+ residents of Northern Kentucky are, on the surface, doing well. They aren’t leaving the state at higher rates, aren’t reporting more violence than their neighbors, and are finding health care providers at rates higher than the state average. By nearly every physical measure, Northern Kentucky seems like it’s doing just fine.

But when you zoom in, Northern Kentucky’s LGBTQ+ residents are experiencing an increased mental health burden nearly 9 percentage points higher than the statewide average. According to the 2025 Queer Kentucky Survey, 43.2% of LGBTQ+ residents in Northern Kentucky report experiencing very negative mental health, reporting higher psychological burdens than their Louisville or Lexington counterparts.

Dig deeper into the data, and the impact of public policy comes into focus: 75% of Northern Kentucky residents say their mental health has been negatively affected by anti-LGBTQ+ policies – 5 percentage points higher than the statewide average – and 58.3% say they’ve lost trust in their elected officials altogether.

These numbers make it worth asking why residents are staying at all.

It starts with local government. Across Northern Kentucky, city halls have built some of the deepest LGBTQ+ infrastructure in the state, one ordinance at a time.

Kentucky’s “fairness ordinances” – local laws banning discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity – are where this shows up most. About 1 in 4 cities in Northern Kentucky’s three core counties – Boone, Kenton and Campbell – now has a fairness ordinance on the books, one of the densest concentrations anywhere in the state. Covington passed the region’s first in 2003, followed by Dayton, Bellevue and Highland Heights in 2019, Fort Thomas, Cold Spring and Newport in 2020, Crescent Springs and Fort Mitchell in 2021, and Elsmere in 2022.

Beyond anti-discrimination laws, Covington was also the first city in Kentucky to ban conversion therapy for minors (2020) before Governor Andy Beshear signed an executive order banning it statewide in 2024. Covington also scored a 94 out of 100 on the Human Rights Campaign’s 2025 Municipal Equality Index – one of the highest scores in the state. Local advocacy groups Northern Kentucky Pride and Northern Kentucky Fairness were both active in getting many of those ordinances passed.

In other words, queer residents and allies in Northern Kentucky have worked hard to build real community and real protection for their families and neighbors.

So if Northern Kentucky’s LGBTQ+ residents feel more physically safe and have built a strong community, what’s driving the region’s mental health numbers higher than anywhere else in the state? No single survey question can answer that, but a look at the wider anti-LGBTQ+ policy landscape – with 75% of Northern Kentucky residents’ mental health impacted by it – suggests a few contributing threads.

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In 2023, the legislature passed Senate Bill 150, a law banning gender-transition care for minors, mandating school bathroom policy by sex assigned at birth, and barring teachers from discussing sexual orientation or gender identity in the classroom.

The ACLU called it “one of the worst anti-trans laws in the nation,” and, when the bill passed, Northern Kentucky school districts complied quickly.

This law wasn’t just handed down from Frankfort; it was Northern Kentucky-grown. State Sen. John Schickel, representing Boone County, was one of 13 senators who sponsored the bill, alongside two other Northern Kentucky senators, Shelley Funke Frommeyer and Gex Williams. (The bill’s lead sponsor, State Sen. Max Wise, represents Campbellsville, in south-central Kentucky.)

Unlike Louisville or Lexington, where anti-LGBTQ+ legislation largely arrives from rural and exurban districts, the architecture of SB 150 was built partly by Northern Kentucky’s own representatives. In cases like SB 150, local queer residents aren’t watching some distant lawmaker author these bills. Instead, they’re coming from senators in their own backyard.

So while physical violence against LGBTQ+ folks sits at 9.1% in Northern Kentucky – 6.1 percentage points below the state average – there is still a looming anxiety that their safety could be at risk as they watch these policies come in.

Amy Clark, LPCC and Director of Student Counseling Services at Northern Kentucky University, shares, “At the local university counseling center, more than 33% of the overall clientele are LGBTQ+. I have witnessed an increase in anxiety, uncertainty and guardedness. A lot of times it presents as anger – and rightly so – but if you dig below the surface, there’s a genuine feeling of intense fear and sadness.”

And then, just across the Ohio River sits a whole other state with a whole other set of policies.

Before 2023, Northern Kentucky families who wanted gender-affirming care for their kids could drive just minutes into Cincinnati to Children’s Hospital, which had been among the highest-volume providers of gender-affirming care in the country. Then, in 2024, Ohio banned gender-affirming care for minors, just as Kentucky had.

Northern Kentucky families didn’t lose access to this type of care all at once; they had to lose their nearest options one at a time. Louisville’s cross-border option, Indiana, restricted care even earlier, while Lexington never had a comparable one at all.

Northern Kentucky may be the only Kentucky metro where residents watched two specific, physically close options get taken away from them, one after the other.

The region also sits inside Cincinnati’s media market, meaning residents are more likely to keep a pulse on two state legislatures’ worth of anti-LGBTQ+ fights instead of just one. That’s two states’ worth of harmful policy instead of one, likely creating twice the psychological weight to carry.

Ben London, a gay resident living in Northern Kentucky, told Queer Kentucky, “We have been hit with so much news about so many bills in so many states on so many issues that I’m overwhelmed. I am not transgender, but I have transgender friends. [My friend] – probably turned 18 a few years ago and transitioned before that – is a lovely, wonderful person. It makes me angry that he couldn’t get that gender-affirming care today; that’s ridiculous to me.”

What’s happening in Northern Kentucky is a paradox built by two governments at once. It’s a patchwork of city halls that took steps and decided one ordinance at a time to protect their queer neighbors. And yet, it is a region that sits underneath two state capitols that keep deciding otherwise.

That volume is about to increase. With the midterms approaching, both statehouses and the media covering them are likely to get even louder. Northern Kentucky’s LGBTQ+ residents have a say in what happens next, but they shouldn’t have to carry all of it alone.

“[LGBTQ+] individuals are tired of fighting this battle,” Clark said. “Despite the overwhelming discouragement, [they] are still trying to take care of themselves.”

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