I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience 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 momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.