I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a few years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my personal self.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.