I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

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 possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed several more years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.