I Believed I Was a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie show opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.