I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, Boy George wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video 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 man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.