I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to end. 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 unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.