I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

It took me several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, 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 transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.