I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists 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 poise of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern 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 as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.