I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.