I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.