I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, residing in the US.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I can.