I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the museum, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

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 end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.