I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was positioned before a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me additional years before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, 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 all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.