I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself were without Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.