Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the America.
During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.
My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.
The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.
I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie
Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.
Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.
I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my personal self.
Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.
In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.
"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.
They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, 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 tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)
Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.
Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.
It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.
I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.
Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.
Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. 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, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.
I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.
I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.
A tech enthusiast and gaming aficionado with over a decade of experience in digital media and content creation.
