I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

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 end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, 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.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.