I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I were without online forums or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.