I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed several more years before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, 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 became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. The process required additional years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.