I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping 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, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.