I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity 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 back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition 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 medical professional not long after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.