I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance 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, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem didn't involve my attire, 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 person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.