I Thought I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my friends and I were without social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, 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 voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.