I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I were without social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, 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 wanted to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

I required further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.