I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, 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 wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I continue to possess 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 explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.