I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I required several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain 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 in costume throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.