I Thought That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, 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 newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself were without social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I required further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.