I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I were without social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, 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 yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.