I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.