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

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the America.

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

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself were without social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I required several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.