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

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

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

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I were without social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement 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 an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.