I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, living in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, Boy George adopted women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - 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 tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; 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.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.