I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. At the moment when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.