I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

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

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony 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 understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs 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 be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

It took me additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.