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

Back in 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

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

I needed additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem 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 in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.