I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, 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 sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying 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! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.