I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.