I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

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

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - 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 Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess 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 like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.