I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, living in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.