I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

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

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.