I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed several more years before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.