I Thought I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

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

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself were without social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

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 wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.