I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Reality

During 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 gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have online forums or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

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

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.