I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.