I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Reality

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather 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, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, 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 removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required additional years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself 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 medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.