I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself were without Reddit or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.