I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated mother of four, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, stumble across a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline 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 need to be a man.

Coming out as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required further time before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and started wearing men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip 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 wanted to transform myself into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional not long after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared came true.

I still have 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 like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.