I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned 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 undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional not long after. I needed additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.