I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.