I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.