I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported male clothing, Boy George adopted feminine outfits, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier possibility.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to explore expression as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.