I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I were without Reddit or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.