I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself were without social platforms or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing 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 heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.