Remembering the Mothers of Our Dead: A Special Comment
Mother’s Day is just around the corner. For the women who have lost children to the unreasoning hatred of LGBT hate crimes, this may be the most trying holiday of the year. Perhaps it is because I have met so many of them in the course of my travels and research, but I feel a particular debt of gratitude for the courage and loving tenacity of such great women, everyday, of course, but on this day of the year most of all. I cannot tell you how much I admire these mothers, and the other women related by blood ties and choice to the women and men who died because of hatred. All of them: the ones who kept their griefs private and out of the public eye, as well as those who found their voices to speak out for justice and against hate. But is especially for those mothers and grandmothers, aunts and sisters who have become advocates for us that I feel a keener debt of gratitude. None of these remarkable women dreamed they would ever become advocates for LGBT rights. Outrageous fortune and the deeds of malevolent ignorance forced them to face the worst prospect a mother could possibly face: the loss of a child to hate crime violence. All they wanted to do was grow old loving the children they brought into the world. But the long, crooked arm of homophobia and transphobia reached into their family circles and broke those circles apart. One by one, these brave women have found their voices, raised them in courtrooms, on the steps of city halls, in PFLAG meetings, at Pride events and vigils, before the glare of television klieg lights, and in the halls of Congress. These are the redoubtable women who refuse to let us forget their children, and refuse to let themselves or us rest until justice for everybody’s child finally comes to pass in this nation. They are the staunchest allies the LGBT community has, becoming the mothers of queer kids everywhere. Since they come from out of every class, religious tradition, ethnic background, status cohort, racial group, and region of the country, no single woman can possibly sum up them all. But when Elke Kennedy speaks out in South Carolina for her son, Sean, when Pauline Mitchell appeals to us not to forget her two spirit boy, F.C. in her Navajo gentleness, when Billy Jack Gaither’s sister Kathy Jo pushes her scooter chair toward the podium in Montgomery, Alabama, and when Pat Kuteles refuses to let the U.S. Army get off lightly for the death of her dear Barry, somehow all the women united by such pain gather with them and stand beside them. When Sylvia Guerrero, mother of transwoman Gwen Araujo, spoke in October 2009 on what would have been her daughter’s 25th birthday, she called upon us to honor our LGBT dead by reaching out to bring about a better world, “Light a candle, release a balloon, or do a good deed for someone less fortunate than yourself. Thank you for keeping [Gwen’s] memory alive after 7 years” (Examiner.com). The least that we can do is to honor the witness of these remarkable women by joining the struggle of justice and remembrance ourselves…and then one thing more. We can reach out to these women with our love, as a Psychology Today article suggests we do: “People get so uncomfortable and often feel the need to ‘error on the side of caution’ so as to not upset the person they care so much about. This, however, often leaves the mom simply feeling forgotten. A card, a phone call – even an email – wishing her a happy Mother’s Day can go farther than you could ever know. While she’s on her own path of redefining where she now “fits” on this day, you are helping her to know. She fits where every other mother fits – in the spotlight. She’s still a mom, and she still needs to know that she is viewed this way by everyone else.”
Pat Mulder, Ryan Skipper’s mom, once told me that for a grieving mother who buried her slain child, “there is no closure.” She and her husband, Lynn, soldier on, turning their sorrow into advocacy, wrapping their arms around gay and lesbian kids wherever they go to let them know everyone deserves to be remembered and loved. On this Mother’s Day, reach out to the women (and men} who have borne so much, and remind them with acts of loving kindness that like their children, they, too, are not forgotten. ~ Stephen Sprinkle, Director of the Unfinished Lives Project
The Long Ordeal of Craig Cohen
Fort Lauderdale. Florida – Over a year ago, Craig Cohen, 47, “the little guy with a big heart,” lost his life to a gay-bashing. He died October 7, 2009 in a coma from complications suffered from the fatal attack that crushed his skull in Oak Park on April 6. Since the night of his assault, Cohen never regained consciousness. Surrounded by his human family and friends, and the rescue animals who were his beloved “kids,” gentle Craig breathed his last in a hospice room. Six brain surgeries failed. The awful vigil by his bedside had come to a close. But the Ordeal of Craig Cohen is far from over. The four young men accused of attacking him, Pargu Leandro, 25, Victor Gonzalez, 21, Brandon Edwards, 19, and Chad Olah, 18, are still in the Broward Sheriff’s Main Jail, charged with first-degree murder. The courts, according to fresh reports on the Facebook honor site, “Love for Craig Cohen,” are moving at a glacial pace, plagued by motions to postpone hearings. Nothing can be resolved until two things are finally accomplished: First, the trials must bring to light the facts and the motives that prompted these four suspects to target Cohen and a second victim, David Villanova, and brutally beat these two gay men who were each alone and vulnerable on a dark street. The quartet are charged with stomping in Cohen’s face and skull, crushing his facial bones, blinding him, leaving him paralyzed and severely brain damaged. Reports suggest that the suspects took turns kicking him, laughing about what they were doing to the little man. The Broward Sheriff’s Office has considered this attack a robbery, and has investigated it that way, although the alleged robbers never stole a thing from Cohen. His Facebook friends write, “when Craig was found and taken to Broward General, he had his wallet, credit cards, cash and his watch.” Apparently one of the attackers kicked his cell phone out of his hand as he was trying to call 911. According to a report given to the Broward Palm Beach New Times, one of the bashers lifted the phone and gave it to a homeless man down the street. As the informant said to BPBT, that “doesn’t sound like a robbery to me.” From the beginning, his friends have firmly believed that their beloved Craig was killed because he was gay. Second, the cause Craig Cohen dedicated his life to must be supported: his determination to provide shelter and a home for animals who lost their human parents due to illness or sudden death. Craig was a long-time senior employee of the school board. He had barely a year to go before he could retire with 25 years under his belt, and open the shelter of his dreams. Since he was a boy, Craig had loved and rescued animals. He had purchased a tract of land out in the country in northern Florida for his animal sanctuary. Craig left behind his dog Eddie and his five indoor cats, orphaned by his death, just as the many pets left behind after the deaths of other human parents had been. Eddie was adopted by close friends. The cats, some of them 14 years old, were harder to place. The Craig Cohen Animal Advocacy Project (CCAAP), http://www.petprojectforpets.org, has been founded in Craig’s memory to find new parents for orphaned animals, in fulfillment of this gentle gay man’s dream. The LGBT community of Wilton Manors and Fort Lauderdale miss Craig Cohen. So do the food banks, the homeless shelters, and the animal protection agencies he worked so tirelessly to support. Craig will have his day in court, many days to come, it seems. Craig’s cause has found and will continue to find support among those who loved him, and those of us who have come to admire the “little guy with the big heart.” But his ordeal will not be over until senseless attacks against LGBT people in Florida and around the nation finally cease, and in their place we finally learn to treat each other at least as mammals, and not as things.
Transphobic Attacker Slashes “IT” into Chest of Victim
Long Beach, CA – A Cal State Long Beach graduate student who identifies as a transgender man was forced into a campus toilet stall on April 15 and had the word “IT” carved into his chest with a sharp instrument. The mystery attacker, depicted to the left in a police composite sketch, approached his mark in a men’s toilet on the west side of the campus at around 9:30 pm. He somehow knew his victim’s name, asking if his name was “Colle.” When Colle Carpenter, a 27-year-old F to M graduate student, said yes, the attacker pushed his target into the stall, forcing him against the stall door. He grabbed Carpenter by the T-shirt, yanking it up over his head and exposing his bare chest, as reported by the Long Beach Press-Telegram. After slashing Carpenter, the assailant rushed form the scene, leaving his victim bleeding, shaken, and terrorized. The suspect, described as a 5-foot-10-inch, thin white male with light complexion and dark hair, has neither been identified nor apprehended as of this writing. He was wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt and dark khaki shorts, according to Rick Gloady, a spokesperson for CSULB. As the investigation has proceeded, some community organizations have criticized the university for not immediately releasing information about the attack to the press. Carpenter, however, defended the school’s actions to the L.A.Times blog, L.A.Now, “I’m aware the university has come under some criticisms regarding communications and response, in general,” he said. “But again, I feel that the administration’s response has been focused on the investigation and my wellbeing.” Scores of concerned students and townspeople gathered in support of Carpenter and all victims of transphobia on campus this past Thursday for a “Take Back the Night” march and rally. Carpenter, still recovering from his injuries and leaning on a cane, told the crowd that his attacker was motivated by hatred. The word carved into the flesh of his chest was chosen to demean him as a human being, trying to make him feel “less than human.” But his foe ultimately failed. “I am not less than human,” he told his supporters, “I am not more than or less than anyone standing here today.” Carpenter went on to say, “I know this did not just happen to me. This happened to every member of the community. Those of us who are visibly queer are scared. I have been terrified to come back to campus.” He concluded his remarks, “Thank you for helping me get through this.” Campus officials said that the slashing attack was a one-of-a-kind incident, and do not expect there to be another like it. Meanwhile, the manhunt continues for the transphobic suspect who signs his bigotry in the flesh and blood of his victims.




Summer 2009 – Dr. Sprinkle responded to the Fort Worth Police Department and Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission Raid on the Rainbow Lounge, Fort Worth’s newest gay bar, on June 28, 2009, the exact 40th Anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion. Dr. Sprinkle was invited to speak at three protest events sponsored by Queer LiberAction of Dallas. Here, he is keynoting the Rainbow Lounge Protest at the Tarrant County Courthouse on July 12, 2009. 

