I Believed That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, 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 YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor not long after. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.