I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.