I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, 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 unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me several more years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor not long after. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.