I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced 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 wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.