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

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, living in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I still have 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 play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.