I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a clue to 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 primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.