I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum 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 fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required additional years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.