I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

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

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed several more years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.