I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I were without social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed several more years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

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

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.