I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.