I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I were without online forums or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I can.