I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, 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, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I required several more years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

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 male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag 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 was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.