I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet 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 transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern 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 desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.