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

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.