I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I were without social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, 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 wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

It took me additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.