I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Truth

In 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.