I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade 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 physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.