I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

It took me further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition 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. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.