I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the United States.

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

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I were without online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected 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. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.