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

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.