I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, 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 significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.