I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of natural performers; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, 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, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.