I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, following that period, 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 familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.