I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, living in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had once given up.

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

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.