I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Realize the Reality

In 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, living in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

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

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required several more years before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.