I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. 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 sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.