I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. 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 sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

It took me additional years before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse 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 went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.