I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.