I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the United States 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 to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, 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.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess 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 following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.