I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I were without online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue 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 aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, 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. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.