I Believed Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.