I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.