I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium 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 thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required additional years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.