I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the United States.

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

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, Boy George wore women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the museum, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection 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 feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.