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

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me additional years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.