I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces 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 end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.