I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.