I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed further time before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.