I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, residing in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike 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 masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip back to the UK at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.