I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed several more years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.