I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

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

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.