I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Reality

During 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

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

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed further time before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.