I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, living in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself were without online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick 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 desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I required additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, 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 was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.