I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

During 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage 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 man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.