I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, 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 freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge 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 all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.