I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

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

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed 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.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.