I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Realize the Reality

During 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

I needed several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.