I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and bands such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.