I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.