I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - 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 removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

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