I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

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

It took me several more years before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.