I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, 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 revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.