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

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without social platforms or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.