I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

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 realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

I needed further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.