I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.