I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed 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 wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required further time before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.