I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, one of whom I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without online forums or digital content to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore masculine attire, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, hoping that maybe he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to be over. 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. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a physician soon after. I needed further time before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.