I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier possibility.

It took me additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.