I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me further time before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.