I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.