I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, residing in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the show - 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 compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. The process required further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.