I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back 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 returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.