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

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, living in the United States.

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

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I required further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.