I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, living in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I required further time before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.