I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced women's fashion, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me further time before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.