I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, 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 completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.