I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I were without online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. 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 became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.