I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, Boy George wore women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists 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; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.