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

In 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

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

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the identical footage 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 feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.