I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

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

When the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, 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 wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. The process required another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.