I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and in that decade, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. At the moment when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but transitioning was a much more frightening outlook.

It took me several more years before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.