I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.