I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

I needed several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced 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 throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.