I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a clue to my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

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 a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor not long after. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.