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

In 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, Boy George wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.