I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, Boy George wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, 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 about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.