I Thought That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless 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 gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.