I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. 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 commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, seeking out clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward 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 male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.