I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the America.

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

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.