I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, Boy George wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

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

I needed further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.