I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Reality

During 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, living in the US.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me further time before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.