I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I required additional years before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

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

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.