I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my friends and I were without Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me several more years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I maintain 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 play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.