I remember the day David Bowie changed everything for me. It was 2018 when I revisited the David Bowie Is exhibition at the V&A in London, five years after it first opened. Back then, in 2011, I had come out as a lesbian and was still trying to figure out my identity. I had been dating men, including one who eventually left me, and felt an intense pull towards masculinity.
As I stood before the same video featuring Bowie's iconic 'Boys Keep Swinging' music video, something shifted inside me. For the first time, I saw myself in those three drag singers – their discomfort with their roles, their longing for freedom from the constraints of their costumes. It was a moment of profound connection, and suddenly, I felt like I was looking at my own reflection.
I realised that I had been living a lie, pretending to be someone I wasn't. The costume, the makeup, the societal expectations – it all felt suffocating. But Bowie's music had always been about pushing boundaries, challenging norms, and embracing individuality. As I watched those drag singers, now revealed as two of the world's greatest musicians, I knew that I wanted to break free from my own constraints.
The problem wasn't my clothes or makeup; it was my body. I wanted to be a man, not just a feminine one in drag. It wasn't an easy decision – I had spent years trying on different personas, testing the waters of masculinity and femininity. But that day at the V&A, something clicked.
I booked a doctor's appointment soon after, and over the next few years, my transition began. It wasn't without its fears and doubts, but as I shed the skins of expectation and societal norms, I finally felt like myself – strong, confident, unapologetically male.
Bowie's legacy lives on, not just in his music, but in the countless people he inspired to be themselves. He showed us that being a man isn't about conforming to certain standards; it's about embracing your own identity and being true to yourself. And for me, that's exactly what I've done – with David Bowie's guidance and encouragement, I finally found my way to myself.
As I stood before the same video featuring Bowie's iconic 'Boys Keep Swinging' music video, something shifted inside me. For the first time, I saw myself in those three drag singers – their discomfort with their roles, their longing for freedom from the constraints of their costumes. It was a moment of profound connection, and suddenly, I felt like I was looking at my own reflection.
I realised that I had been living a lie, pretending to be someone I wasn't. The costume, the makeup, the societal expectations – it all felt suffocating. But Bowie's music had always been about pushing boundaries, challenging norms, and embracing individuality. As I watched those drag singers, now revealed as two of the world's greatest musicians, I knew that I wanted to break free from my own constraints.
The problem wasn't my clothes or makeup; it was my body. I wanted to be a man, not just a feminine one in drag. It wasn't an easy decision – I had spent years trying on different personas, testing the waters of masculinity and femininity. But that day at the V&A, something clicked.
I booked a doctor's appointment soon after, and over the next few years, my transition began. It wasn't without its fears and doubts, but as I shed the skins of expectation and societal norms, I finally felt like myself – strong, confident, unapologetically male.
Bowie's legacy lives on, not just in his music, but in the countless people he inspired to be themselves. He showed us that being a man isn't about conforming to certain standards; it's about embracing your own identity and being true to yourself. And for me, that's exactly what I've done – with David Bowie's guidance and encouragement, I finally found my way to myself.