I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.