I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the monotony 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 momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, 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 craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male 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 require being a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required further time before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, following that period, 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 familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the problem 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 presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.