I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.