I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody 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, anticipating that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. 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 issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.