I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Reality

During 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie exhibition debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore male clothing, The flamboyant singer adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about came true.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.