I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, living in the America.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.