I Believed Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single parent to four children, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. 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 was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, 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 like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.