Dwan Prince, who was attacked in Brooklyn by three men in
early June, now relies on help from his mother, Valerie Prinez.
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Despite sudden downpours, police raids on clubs, and an alleged gay
bashing, Manhattan’s Pride weekend was, for most people, one big
celebration.
The reason? ‘We want [our 4-year-old son] to have that dignity and respect that the government gives families with marriage.’
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By JAMES WITHERS
Friday, November 11, 2005
It’s Halloween night and young ghosts and goblins are walking the streets
of Maywood, N.J., looking for their treats. Aside from the occasional squeals
from costumed children sharing their bounty, the night remains calm.
Dwan Prince sits in a wheelchair in his mother’s living room. He is
a fan of professional wrestling and watches the television smiling. Prince’s
hair is cut short, and it’s impossible not to notice the pink and white
scars that cover his head. Down the middle of each are the delicate impressions
left from stitches.
When Prince talks, his words emerge slowly and with deliberate labor. His
days are now spent with speech and physical therapies, hoping he can get back
the life he had as a construction worker before the night in early June when
three men decided to get out of their car and pommel Prince, leaving him in
a coma.
The attack has joined a long list of crimes against gay men and lesbians in
the New York area in the past year. Prince has no memory of the attack, except
what he can glean from articles about it online.
“I don’t remember anything,” he said.
When Prince’s assault first hit the newspapers, there was speculation
he might have known the men who attacked him. Prince insists he does not know
Steven Pomie, who was eventually arrested and charged with the crime.
Prince also points out he had no trouble with his neighbors. While only a
few knew he is gay, a next-door neighbor and the super of the building, he liked
his neighborhood and reports no problems. One of the reasons he’s alive
today is because neighbors intervened. It is this, being alive after such a
brutal attack, that Prince draws some strength on.
“I was almost dead and now I’m alive,” Prince said.
Valerie Prinez, Prince’s mother, also tries to gain some strength from
the fact that by most odds, her son should be dead.
“Dwan has to be here for a purpose,” she said. “Dwan is
a super hero and came back.”
While both try their best to keep these higher ground moments in mind, the
real world keeps knocking at their door. Ever since the attack, Valerie Prinez
has tried to do right by her son, get him the appropriate medical care he needs,
fill out forms for social services and visit him.
She has turned into his primary caregiver. Her bank account is depleted; she
filed for bankruptcy and faces eviction. She is now on unpaid leave from her
employer, which is a double-edged sword. It lets her help her son, but means
no money is coming in. And her employer would like her back by December.
Then there are the bureaucratic nightmares of everything from social services,
food and medical care. Her job is caring for Dwan, but that does not keep the
bill collectors at bay.
“If I were wealthy, we wouldn’t be having these problems,”
Prinez said.
She also points to indifference, from politicians and from her own religion.
As a member of Mount Olive Baptist Church, Prinez was dismayed when her minister
refused her cries for help. The reason: He found out her son is gay, and wanted
nothing more to do with her.
Local politicians were helpful when the case was in the news, but once it
faded, their calls ceased.
“The people don’t want to hear about it,” Prinez said.
Prince’s mother admits to being pushy and acerbic at times, but wonders
what else can she do. Her son was left for dead for no reason and there is no
one looking out for his interests. “Who is there to protect him?”
she asks.
It is 10 p.m. and Prince, his mother and sister are now all in front of the
television. A local news channel interviewed Prince earlier in the day and promised
the spot would make the night’s broadcast.
The segment comes on and Prince’s face fills the TV. The reporter tells
the story, and there are shots of Valerie helping Prince get into his new wheelchair.
The segment ends.
Dwan, who earlier said it was hard for him to cry, puts his hand to his face
and weeps. His shoulders shake and the tears seep through his hands.
His mother leaves her seat, crying too her eyes red. She hugs him and that
is how they remain as the newscast moves on to the next story.
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