I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

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

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.