I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - 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 tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; 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.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, 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 aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.