I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Reality

In 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

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