A National Rainbow College Fund float at the San Diego Pride parade. (Photo courtesy San Diego Foundation)
A National Rainbow College Fund float at the San Diego Pride parade. (Photo courtesy San Diego Foundation)

Mental health care is an incredibly important aspect of the college experience — and arguably never more than right now.

A program under the San Diego Foundation has established a student advisory council to address what the program calls “a mental health emergency” among LGBTQ+ college students.

“Right now we don’t have a specific, set-in-stone plan of how we’re going to be able to advocate to others, but just the fact — I believe — that we exist is a great step forward,” said Abril Colin, a freshman from Escondido attending California State University, San Marcos.

The newly-established council is made up of Southern California-based college students who received scholarships from the National Rainbow College Fund.

The fund, which is only entering its third year handing out scholarships, conducted an internal survey of scholarship recipients with alarming results — including widespread financial insecurity and mental health struggles. 

A quarter of the 98 respondents self-reported suicidal ideation within the last year, while nearly half of the respondents said they experienced or witnessed anti-LGBTQ+ discrimination from fellow students. Another 43% reported food insecurity while enrolled in college.

While the responses were drawn from a small sample size and may not necessarily reflect the average experience of LGBTQ+ college students, the survey provides early insight into the effects of affordability, national backlash to LGBTQ+ people and ongoing mental health issues since the beginning of the pandemic in 2020.

“Financial stress is definitely very, very big. I think it is a big part of my life,” said Sam Rivera of Chula Vista, who transferred from University of California, Los Angeles to Southwestern College this semester after her mental health made studying in Los Angeles infeasible.

Those two issues — financial insecurity and mental health — do not exist in isolation; they are often profoundly intertwined.

“Our mental health is connected to the way that our finances play out,” Bey Koch, a community college student in Los Angeles who is studying to be a therapist, said.

Jorge Bernal, a former foster youth from Imperial County, shared that his own mental health improved after receiving the NRCF scholarship in his second year at University of California Irvine.

“With their scholarship, it has helped me this year to be able to apply for housing with some of my roommates, and be able to afford it and also have decent food as well,” Bernal said.

All those who received NRCF scholarships live in California, but can go to school anywhere. They also identify as LGBTQ+ and have demonstrated financial need.

Recipients do not have to be publicly out as LGBTQ+ to receive the scholarship, a unique aspect. Privacy is prioritized during the application process.

“I think by providing this scholarship for these individuals, it can provide the lifeline to where they don’t feel forced to have to come out to seek aid, whether they choose to be publicly out or not,” said Rogelio Espinoza, manager at NRCF. He did not come out until his senior year at San Diego State University

NRCF gives out a growing number of $2,500 scholarships annually. The scholarship is funded through donations. This year, NRCF is working to raise $500,000.

“These students need the support that they do right now more than ever,” Espinoza said.

Financial stress, political uncertainty and mental health issues are not limited to LGBTQ+ college students. After all, 50% of California college students reported food insecurity in a UCLA study published in January 2025.

But some of the ways that it plays out can be unique for specifically vulnerable groups.

Koch, a 33-year-old adult reentry student at Glendale Community College, lost financial support from their parents due to their queer, nonbinary identity. Being financially independent led to hardship staying in school.

But re-enrolling after a five-year gap did give them insight into how their campus’s culture has changed to become more inclusive.

“Before I felt very either invisible, or like an alien,” Koch said. “I definitely used to feel like there was a target on my back, or that there was just unwanted looks and stares. Now I feel that there’s a lot more encouraging support.”

The evolving atmosphere has given them faith that there are things that are changing for the good, even as the Trump administration targets schools with diversity, equity and inclusion programs.

“Once he really got in office, he really created a huge division. And you can kind of feel the shift,” said Saivionn Williams, of San Diego. However, he noted this happened less on campus at California State University Chico than in the neighboring towns, and especially at the middle school where he mentors students.

He joined the advisory council so his mentees would recognize that there are resources and support out there.

“It’s tough being different… You already are in the corner and alone by yourself. It makes you already feel less,” he said. “I just want to show the kids that there’s opportunity for all of us, no matter what you look like or what you identify as.”

In some ways, California’s state-level protections have insulated LGBTQ+ college students from discrimination. But that means enduring a housing shortage and high cost of living for fear of moving to another state which may ban gender-affirming healthcare or access to restrooms for transgender people.

“A lot of San Diegans go, ‘Oh, I’m just moving to Arizona.’ If we move to Arizona, we lose everything — all our protections, our rights,” said Felicia Tisnado-Nykaza, an LGBTQ+ studies major at San Diego State University. “It’s like a tradeoff: Cost versus safety.”

Tisnado-Nykaza did receive an NRCF scholarship but is not on the advisory council. She enjoys the LGBTQ+ community she has in San Diego and the safety net it provides.

That doesn’t mean she is not watching national and state legislative efforts attacking LGBTQ+ people, however.

“We all kind of watch with bated breath like, ‘What’s getting chipped away now? How long do we still have our protection?’” she said. “All these things… constantly weighing on your shoulders while you’re trying to get through and push to get a better future.”