I Believed I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat 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 Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I walked into 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 true nature.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.