I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.