I Believed I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my friends and I were without social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

It took me further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.