I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a doctor not long after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.