I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, living in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.