I Thought I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I were without social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required further time before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.