I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.