I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I were without online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and male 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 reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required further time before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.