I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, 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 much more frightening outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.