I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I were without online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

I required additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.