I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.