I Believed Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my friends and I didn't have Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, Boy George wore women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease 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 male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed further time before I was prepared. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, following that period, I went back. 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 familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.