I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I required further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, 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 stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.