I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.