I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

During 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

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, in turn, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (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 transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.