I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie display opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, living in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, Boy George adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.