I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, living in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely 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 reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.