I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I were without social platforms or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected 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 two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. 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, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.