I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, Boy George wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the monotony 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 pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

It took me further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.