I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.