I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

It took me several more years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.