I Believed I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I were without Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, Boy George adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.