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

Back in 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon 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 entered the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

I required additional years before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.