I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or digital content to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, artists were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My partner relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody 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 queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.