I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Reality

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

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

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. 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 became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.