I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem 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 presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. I needed additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.