I Believed That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required another few years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.