I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, living in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment 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. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.