I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie show opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have online forums or digital content to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, Boy George wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.