I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Realize the Reality

During 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have online forums or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed further time before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation 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.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.