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

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, 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 - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, Boy George wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed 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 women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.