I Was Convinced I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we turned toward music icons, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as 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! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

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 experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.