I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie show opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, living in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without social platforms or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.