I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, 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 knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.