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

During 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was 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 video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse 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 revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade 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 body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.