I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have online forums or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup 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 wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.