I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, living in the America.

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

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.