I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.