I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.