I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium 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 supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I required further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain 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 in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.