I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to Reddit or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity 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 help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.