I Thought I Was a Gay Woman - David Bowie Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single mother of four, residing in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my peers and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

I required additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician soon after. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

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 following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.