I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I were without online forums or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

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

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.