I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.