I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

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

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed further time before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.