I Believed I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed several more years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.