I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather 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 performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed several more years before I was ready. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.