Narrator: Most people remember a day of change--men became women, straight women became lesbians. But what of those for whom it was just another day? We talked to a woman who was exclusively attracted to women long before the change.
Susan: Everybody, even some of my fellow "old-school dykes" expected me to be overjoyed at how many women were suddenly available! But I hate it! I had a community. It was shut off in a lot of ways, we were oppressed both as women and as lesbians, but it was ours--we had each other's backs, we could cry on each other's shoulders, you really felt a sense of togetherness. Now all of that's gone, like taking a bowl of chicken soup and dumping it in the Pacific Ocean. Being a lesbian was a huge part of my identity--now that all seven billion persons in the world are just as lesbian as I am, what's the point?
Narrator: Do you have a partner?
Susan: That's the other thing. How do you know who people were? I see some cute girl, I try to pick her up, we make out, and then it turns out before the change she was some raging sexist or homophobe! Excuse me, I don't want to have an orgasm with Fred Phelps! And people lie all the time about who they were. I don't believe anyone anymore unless I knew them before the change. I feel I had a life, maybe not so great but a life, and the change took it from me. And people expect me to be happy!
Narrator: Two weeks after our interview, Susan killed herself.