I Thought Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I didn't have Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw returning to the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies failed to move around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before surgical procedures - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. It took additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.