I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.