I Thought That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, Boy George wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity 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 norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward 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 ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge 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 aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.