I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.