I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.