I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - 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 own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed several more years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.