I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

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

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his lean physique and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was looking for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near 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 self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I needed several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.