I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, residing in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.