I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself were without Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.