I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Discover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself were without social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I required further time before I was ready. In the meantime, I did my best to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.