I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, living in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

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

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required several more years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared came true.

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 explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.