I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself were without Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired 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 wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. 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 made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.