I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I were without Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me further time before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.