I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, living in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back 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 undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.