I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.