I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes 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 fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

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

It took me additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.