I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, living in the United States.

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

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, 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 throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, 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 tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.