I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

During 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the US.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one 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 gallery, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.