I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie display opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment 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! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed several more years before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.