I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, 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 craved his narrow hips and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me further time before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.