I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Truth

During 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my friends and I were without social platforms or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, Boy George wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.