I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, living in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, 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, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.