I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized 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 none of the things I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.