I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

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

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around 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 inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing 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, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a doctor not long after. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.