I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a few years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single parent to four children, living in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My spouse moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared occurred.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.