I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned masculine attire, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium 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 understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.