I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Discover the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, 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, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I required further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

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

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.