I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces 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 longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.