I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I understood I connected 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 additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, 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, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, 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 at peace with myself, I have that capacity.