I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.