I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Uncover the Actual Situation

During 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore 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.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I required several more years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in the American metropolis, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.