I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed several more years before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.