I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was ready. During that period, 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 men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.