I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.