I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

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

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

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

I required additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.