I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself were without Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.