I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.