I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, 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, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me several more years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.