I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I were without Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.