I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

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

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when 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 unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.