I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes 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 momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.