I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Reality

During 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of natural performers; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, 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 fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I can.