I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I were without Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.