I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed further time before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.