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

In 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.