I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find 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 social platforms or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when 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 showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. The process required another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.