I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one 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 America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore male clothing, Boy George wore women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony 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 empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.