I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed several more years before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

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

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.