I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore 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 became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.