I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment 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 unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.