I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, living in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected 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. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. 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 didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.