I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

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

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.