I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.