I Thought That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.