I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

During 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

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

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me additional years before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.