I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I required several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.