I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I were without social platforms or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.