I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, 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 all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.