I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals 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 tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. 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 person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

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 occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.