I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

During 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

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

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me additional years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, 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 can.