I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

In 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.