I Thought I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

I needed several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.