I Thought I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.