I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the United States.

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

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.