I Thought That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional not long after. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.