I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.