I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Reality

During 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, residing in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required further time before I was willing. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

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 remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a engagement in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a physician not long after. The process required further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.