I Thought That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. 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 sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.