I Believed I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. I needed additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.