I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a few years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I were without online forums or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward music icons, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

It took me additional years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.