I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

During 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself were without social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home 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 played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.