I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I required additional years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.