I Thought I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

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

It took me several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician not long after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.