I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward pop stars, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, Boy George embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I entered the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three backing singers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required additional years before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.