I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, Boy George adopted women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know 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 gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, 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 genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.