I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Truth

During 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience 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 fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I required further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.