I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been 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 gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.