I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. The process required additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.