I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Truth

During 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

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

I required further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.