I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, living in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

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

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed further time before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially 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 medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.