I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Realize the Reality

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood 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 none of the fears I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.