I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, 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 reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from 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 unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed several more years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, 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 was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.