I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

During 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.