I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead 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.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.