I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Discover the Truth

In 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was looking for when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, 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 significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.