I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the US.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. The process required additional years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.