I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, living in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.