I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

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

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I required additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. 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 man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.