I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional 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 precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, 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 aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.