I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me several more years before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional not long after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.