I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

Born in 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 consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, 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 gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed further time before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.