I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and bands such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off 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 knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. 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 issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; 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, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.