I Believed I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.