I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

In 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself didn't have Reddit or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

I soon found myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I continue to possess 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 play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.