I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, living in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I were without social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. 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 personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. The process required another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.