I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, 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 transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.