I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.