I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking 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 problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.