I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces 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 longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.