I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, 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 tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off 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 remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue 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 all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.