I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself were without social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed additional years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.