I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself were without Reddit or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required several more years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.