I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the America.

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

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.