I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Truth

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw 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 femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.