I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced mother of four, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my peers and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and during the 80s, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore masculine attire, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his slender frame and precise cut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching 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, in turn, discover a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as gay was a different challenge, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to become more masculine: I ceased using cosmetics and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and regret had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.