I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I were without social platforms or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.