I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

In 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed further time before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.