I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me further time before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem 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 desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.