I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.