I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning 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 caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.