I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, living in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.