I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.