I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a insight into my own identity.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I desired his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required further time before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.