I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, living in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.