I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.