I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Truth

During 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George adopted women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed several more years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.