I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. 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 wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I desired to change 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 physician shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.