I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, living in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum 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 lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped 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 knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

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