I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - David Bowie Made Me Uncover the Truth

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced mother of four, living in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.