I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we turned toward music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the museum, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. 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! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

I required additional years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated 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 potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.