This is a story about an unlikely correspondence between two strangers. Picture it: Atlanta, 1984. Telephone hotlines, payphones, long distance telephone charges, and most importantly, handwritten letters. We partnered with the team at The Queer Public Podcast to tell the story of Diane and the trip to Atlanta that changed everything for her.
This is a story about an unlikely correspondence between two strangers. Picture it: Atlanta, 1984. Telephone hotlines, payphones, long distance telephone charges, and most importantly, handwritten letters. We partnered with the team at The Queer Public Podcast to tell the story of Diane and the trip to Atlanta that changed everything for her.
[Music]
Charlie: Welcome to Tales of Your City. An exploration of queer identity, and community across America, brought to you by Netflix. My name is Charlie Barnett, and I’m the host of this week’s episode, Atlanta.
[Music]
Charlie: In partnership with Tales of The City, the new limited series now streaming on Netflix, we are working with independent queer storytellers each week to shine a light on the cities we inhabit, the ways we connect, and the moments in which we find space to be our true authentic selves.
Erin: I was really determined to finally get to the point to tell somebody. And I had to travel over 1000 miles away from home and my husband and child to be able to do it.
Charlie: We are people affected by everything around us, and sometimes, that is a place. Sometimes we visit a place and come back completely changed, completely moved by our experiences. In this case, that place is Atlanta, Georgia, and it’s 1980’s.
But at the same time, every action has a chain reaction. So, sometimes it’s something small that changes us. We often do things, even little things and don’t realize the ripples of our actions. Sometimes offering the right words, the right help, at the right time, can alter the course of someone’s life.
Or maybe it’s an open door, a door to a closet. Or even a special type of friendship. This is a story about an unlikely correspondence between two strangers.
[Music]
Charlie: The year is 1984. So we’re talking things like telephone hotlines, payphones, long distance telephone charges, and most importantly, handwritten letters. So, what happens when we make a connection with a place, or a person that becomes a part of who we are, and how can an active kindness help someone grow into themselves, and realize their full potential of happiness?
It’s kind of like planting a seed. You need the right conditions for growth. You need a welcoming environment. You need sustenance, and nurturing. And you need exposure to the things that help us grow into the people that we are. So get ready for the Atlanta letters, revisited.
[Music]
Speaker 1: Why don’t you go lay by Amy. That’s what you really want. She usually follows Gail. Gail is the lead dog in the house. Yes, you’re just a member of the pack, huh? Yeah, she’s been my buddy and curled up.
Speaker 2: I’ve heard some crazy stories about dogs like finding cancer in people’s bodies.
Speaker 1: Yeah, yeah.
Speaker 2: Yeah.
Speaker 1: Oh, yeah, they got—And I think since their nose is the last thing—her eyes aren’t good and her hearing isn’t good. But like I say, she was—the knock and she was standing in the doorway.
Erin: The year is 1984, it’s May. Diane is a typical Midwestern woman. She lives in Kenosha, Wisconsin. She’s 31, married to her husband, and they have a little boy that she loves more than anything. And her little boy has a disability. So she starts to volunteer with this group called United Cerebral Palsy of Kenosha County that helps families with special needs kids. An organization is planning a trip to Atlanta, Georgia for a conference.
Diane: It was the first time I had ever been away from my husband and my child on my own.
Erin: Diane has always done what’s expected of her, except that she’s got a secret. At this point, she’s been married for 12 years to her high school boyfriend. And she’s never dated anyone else. But Diane is a lesbian. And she knows it.
Diane: I had crushes on women all my life, and I’d build this little fantasy world up in my head where, you know, I was with my friends, and different other women. And in all women world kind of thing. And then I’d be washing the dishes, well, I’d better get back to it, you know. Because that’s just make believe, that’s fantasy stuff, that’s not the way the world is, and here I am.
And, what would you like for dinner, honey? But I had tried to tell my fiancé that I was gay, probably when I was about 18. And he said, that’s crazy. You know, don’t you like being with me? I said, well, yeah. Okay then, you’re not gay. You know, and we never talked about it again.
Erin: So Diane stays in the closet, aware of queer life happening in cities nearby.
Diane: I knew there was a gay community in Milwaukee, and they probably had a hotline. But if that odd number showed up on the phone bill I’d have to explain it. You know, and I wasn’t ready for that, yet. It could be just plain out dangerous too, who knows.
Erin: She knew that Atlanta was her chance. Her chance to make a connection.
Diane: I was really determined to finally get to the point to tell somebody. And I had to travel over a 1000 miles away from home and my husband, and child to be able to do it.
Erin: So if you’re a gay person today, you get on the internet and you get on social media, and you find your people. But this is 1984.
Diane: I went to the local library and looked up the number of the Atlanta Gay Hotline, and I tucked it away in my wallet and took it with me.
Erin: While staying at the Atlanta Hilton, Diane leaves her room and heads downstairs to the lobby. She gets some quarters and finds a payphone, and she dials the number for the Atlanta Gay Helpline. Resources like the Atlanta Helpline were setup during the Aids crisis. And mostly used by gay men seeking comfort and information about the virus.
It was rare that a woman would call the helpline. But Diane just wanted somebody to talk to, and for someone to hear her secret. So she dials the number, and a woman answers.
Diane: And she’s calm, cool and collected, and I’m telling her all these things about where are the gay bars, and asking where the gay bar is. And sounding like I know what I talk about, but I don’t have a clue. I’m just bluffing my way through this, and just to be able to talk to somebody a little bit.
And I figure, well, it’s Friday night, so when I get off the phone with her, I figure, well, I’ll just, I’ll talk to her again.
Erin: Diane is totally faking it, pretending to know about queer bars and queer spaces. But she has no idea what she’s talking about. She’s really nervous. But Diane feels a connection to the volunteer, whose name is Vernita. Vernita is nice, and helpful. And at the same time, it feels good to talk to another queer person. But she doesn’t say what she wants to say. She doesn’t come out to Vernita. And the call ends. So the next night, Saturday night, she decides to try again.
Diane: And then I find out that nobody is answering the phone on a Saturday. Thinking well, if no one is answering the phone on a Saturday, no one is going to answer the phone on Sunday either.
Erin: And now the hunt is on to find Vernita. Diane has three clues. She knows her name, she knows the sound of her voice, and most importantly, she knows where Vernita works when she’s not volunteering at the hotline, the local Atlanta gay bar called Tallulah’s. So Diane looks up the number.
Diane: So, Saturday night, I think it was, I called Tallulah’s, the bar that she had mentioned, and I asked for her, and she came to the phone. And we talked a little bit.
Erin: But Diane still doesn’t reveal her secret.
Diane: She gave me her phone number. And so I called her at home on Sunday morning before we left. And I told her that I was gay, and that was the first person I had ever come out to at any level. And that was May 6th, 1984. And I kind of celebrate that anniversary.
And I got on the airplane to come home, and I didn’t care if it crashed, because I had finally told somebody, and it was really important.
Erin: During the last phone call, Diane asked Vernita if they can write letters to each other. And Vernita says, yes. So Diane is back in small town Kenosha. Back to her husband, and her son, and back to reality. But that also means back in the closet, and back to the feeling of isolation before she tasted the freedom of coming out in Atlanta.
But she’s taking a little bit of Atlanta back with her, a memory, and a mailing address. So if Diane was nervous on the phone, she isn’t anymore, because writing is what Diane does. She’s kept a journal her entire life. She writes for the local newspaper. She can fully express herself on paper.
Diane: I put everything in those letters that I really couldn’t put in my journal at that time.
Erin: So Diane starts telling Vernita everything in these letters. Details of her day-to-day life, all her queer milestones, all of her insecurities, her hopes and dreams. The freedom she felt while she was in Atlanta, was nagging her, and she wanted more.
Diane: The thrill of coming out to at least one person didn’t really last very long.
Erin: Diane tells Vernita about two girlfriends in town, Caroline and Chris.
Diane: May 15th, 1984. Dear Vernita.
Erin: She comes out to Chris first.
Diane: They knew I was real down, so Chris said, if I needed to talk to someone, I could talk to her and she’d listen. We drove over to a nearby county park and walked through the woods and talked. I started out by pulling out the slip of paper in my wallet that I had Tallulah’s address and phone number and handed it to her, and told her the whole story about Atlanta that she was now officially the second person I ever told in my life. I did it face-to-face too.
And just like I felt when I hung up the payphone after our Sunday morning conversation, I was 50 pounds lighter and eight inches taller.
Erin: She’s braver now. Coming out is getting easier, and she’s finding queer family.
Diane: When I told her, she said, well, did you know Caroline and I are a couple? And I said, no. I said, I was kind of hoping, I knew that were the most forward thinking feminist woman that I know. And I thought if anybody could understand, it would be you guys.
Erin: So Diane is feeling the highs of coming out over and over again, but then still living her life with her husband. These two versions of herself don’t fit together. In the high moments, she’s excited, and then in the low moments, she sinks into depression. In the letter she asks Vernita for advice, seeking guidance from her gay pen pal.
Diane: Wednesday, May 23rd, 1984. Good morning. This is really dumb starting a letter to you when you haven’t had a chance to answer my last one. Why is that I feel like I’m going through puberty again? God forbid, is this common? Or does it have to do with kicking the closet door open too late in life? I know it’s never too late. Thirty ain’t too bad. I wish that I had done it 10 years sooner. That whole summer was just a rollercoaster of up and down.
Erin: As Diane gets her sea legs, she’s learning about gay culture, and her new community. She even gets into queer literature.
Diane: Tuesday, July 3rd, 1984. Dear Vernita. So we begin again. Chris decided that Rubyfruit Jungle should be the next thing on my list of education required reading. I started it at breakfast and I’m already halfway through it. I’ve been sitting here on the porch for an hour reading it, and I swear the neighbors are going to call the white truck for me. I’ve laughed and howled so much. I’ve never enjoyed reading a book as much as this one.
Erin: And then in September, Diane meets the woman who would become her first girlfriend. And like women do, they fall in love hard, and they fell in love fast. She can’t wait to tell Vernita all about Sid.
Diane: Friday, September 20th, 1984. Hey woman, it looks like I’m falling in love again. But this time it’s so different, because she can respond to me. All the other times in my life I’ve had overwhelming feelings about a particular girl or woman. I’ve had to keep my thoughts and my hands to myself. Not so this time, and I feel like singing and break dancing. There’s no stopping us on the top of Mount Everest.
We are so hooked on each other, the days apart are spent like junkies on withdrawal. I’m not kidding. All the fears about being out, the physical attraction, dangers on the home front, the power of her love on me, they all just disappear.
Erin: In November, Diane files for divorce and moves into a friend’s house with Sid.
Diane: December 17th, 1984. Yes, I’m still alive and relatively well, how about you? Life goes on here and I’m learning all kinds of new things, mostly about survival. You know, making ends meet barely. Right now we’re both at John’s, living like a couple of bag ladies. Write me at the Caroline and Chris’s post box for now until I figure out where the hell we’ll settle.
Erin: Diane’s life has completely changed from that first phone call to Vernita at the Atlanta Gay Helpline.
Diane: So many other things have happened in the last couple of months. Things that I used to sit and write to you about, but now they’re just isn’t the time. Know that I still think of you often and have those one-sided conversations with you when things scrape bottom around here.
Erin: With her new love around, Diane doesn’t need her pen pal as much. In the last letter to Vernita, Diane writes about getting her new apartment with Sid.
Diane: 29th of December, 1984. We just put money down on an apartment in Racine. Two bedroom, big kitchen, three closets, praise the Lord, a shower and a skylight in the living room and a skylight in the bathroom, and only $250 per month, including heat. We’re in officially January 15th. Crappy neighborhood, but I guess we can’t have everything. It’s going to be real tight moneywise for the next six months, but we’ll make it. I’ll let you know the phone number and address when we get settled, okay? Be good, especially to yourself, Diane.
Erin: And now Diane is living as an out gay woman. She’s in love and in a relationship. She’s happy, and excited for her new life. And she doesn’t feel the need to confide all the details to her gay pen pal anymore. And that’s it, their lives get busy. They move on.
[Music]
Erin: Over the decades since Diane always wondered about Vernita. She even did a few searches to see if she was still alive.
Diane: We wrote these letters, and she was my lifeline. But we’ve never met face-to-face.
Erin: She found nothing, not even later on the internet.
Diane: I’d like to be able to meet her or talk to her. I hope she’s well.
Erin: So Diane told me the story, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It left me with this weird feeling. As a storyteller, I wanted more resolution. I wanted a proper ending. And I knew there had to be a way to connect these two women. So I started digging around the internet and I sent a letter of my own to a woman in Georgia. And then one day in April, I got a voicemail.
Vernita: Hi Erin, this is Vernita Pinto. I got a letter from you a couple weeks ago about your working on the project. And I think I’m the Vernita Pinto that you’re talking about.
Erin: Diane, who I kept in the dark about my search, was my next call. Hi Diane, so I have some news.
Diane: News?
Erin: Because I found Vernita Pinto.
Diane: You found her, holy shamoly.
Erin: I found her.
Diane: Does she remember me?
Erin: She absolutely remembers you. On May 4th, 2019, on the 35 year anniversary of Diane’s first call to Vernita at the helpline, we brought the two women together over the phone. From her home in Georgia, Vernita calls Diane in Wisconsin. 5471, just give me one second.
Vernita: Hello?
Diane: Hello, yes, this is Diane.
Vernita: Hi, Diane, it’s Vernita.
Diane: Vernita, oh, how exciting to talk to you again. How are you?
Vernita: Fine, I’m fine, thank you.
Diane: Oh, I’m glad you – that you agreed to talk with me again. I was just nervous as heck talking to you on the phone the first time, I know.
Vernita: Did we talk twice that day? Did you call later?
Diane: Yeah, I called at Tallulah’s at night, and I think you gave me your home phone number, so I could talk to you on Sunday morning. And that’s when I really spilled my guts, you know. And it was scary and at the same time a relief. And I’m so glad there were people like you working on these hotlines that would take people. And I think it was just sheer luck that, or maybe it was the universe clicking the Rubik’s cube, so everything clicked into place right that I was able to talk to you, and that you were – we were able to write back and forth to each other.
Vernita: Yeah.
Diane: That was luck.
Vernita: And that was something different for me to write letters to someone.
Diane: Hm-hmm [affirmative], okay. Yeah, I think, well, me being kind of a writer, it wasn’t so hard, but it was good to have someone as a sounding board. I had, you know, just a few friends here that knew all about me. But, you know, that was one at a time, a process that summer. And every time, you know, I hit the jackpot, and told a friend from long ago from high school, or something, and none of them turned their back on me. I was extremely lucky. But I got to celebrate that with you too then.
Vernita: Yeah, yeah. So it worked for you?
Diane: Yes, it worked for me.
Vernita: Working from the heart.
Diane: Yeah, I think that’s the only way anything gets done right, is from the heart, so.
Vernita: Yeah. Well, I’m honored that you did trust me that way.
Erin: As the call goes on, Diane and Vernita open up about their families.
Diane: You know, I don’t think we ever talked about our families of birth. What their attitudes were when we came out. I know, for me, it was kind of tough. I had one sister that I didn’t talk to for quite a while, or at least not in a good friendly, family manner, until many years later. But before my mom died, we got back together then and she’s my best friend. And boy, when I was going through the chemotherapy, she was calling me, you know, three times a week, and checking in on me. And she even drove two hours to take me to chemotherapy a couple of times, so.
Vernita: Wow, that’s a friend.
Diane: Yeah, yeah.
Vernita: When I told my mom I was gay, she said, that’s okay hun, I smoke marijuana once.
Diane: That’s a funny equivalency, I don’t know.
Vernita: Yeah. I think we should write a book about what people tell you after you tell them you’re gay.
Erin: Sometimes the people that change us, are just there to listen. At the root of friendship, isn’t that what’s left? Somebody who has listened enough to know the core of who you are.
[Music]
Erin: For Diane, small things, a number in a phonebook, a handful of quarters, and a listening ear on the other side of the line transformed her life forever. And she was lucky enough to be able to recognize the person, Vernita, in Atlanta that made that possible. We don’t often get the chance to thank those who have nurtured us. But when we do, we realize that we too have touched the people around us. All that care, and kindness, and support, it goes both ways.
Diane: I really needed to talk to you, so. I mean, I had people who I talked to here, but, yeah, sending your thoughts and having a sounding board far away from you is sometimes okay, because then.
Vernita: Was that easier?
Diane: Yeah, it was, it made it easier, yeah, it did. My life turned out pretty darn good.
Vernita: Yeah.
Diane: Yeah.
Vernita: Yeah, well, I’m glad to hear that, so did mine.
[Music]
Charlie: All right, friends and family, thank you for joining us this week on Tales of Your City. This show is produced by Netflix with Pineapple Street Media. Our music is by Hansdale Hsu. You can find us every Monday wherever you find Podcast. This story was produced and narrated by Erin McGregor. Editing and sound design by Arianna Martinez. Editorial oversight from Josh Gwynn, and Ann Heppermann. Scripting help from Josh Gwynn. You heard music from the Blue Dot Sessions. Special thanks to Phoebe Petrovic and Melissa [unintelligible 00:23:08]. You can listen to more queer stories on the Queer Public Podcast. The Podcast about real life and queer life. There’s a queer public dot org to learn more.
If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve heard, spread the joy, tell a friend, your family. Whether their biological or chosen. And don’t forget to rate and subscribe to Tales of Your City on Apple Podcast, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcast. And you can watch me in the Netflix original series, Tales of The City, now streaming.
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