I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male 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 opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.