I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.