I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I were without social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

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

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.