I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for 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 digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required several more years before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, 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 wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.