I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment 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. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.