I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, 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, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.