I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

It took me further time before I was willing. In the meantime, 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 masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.