I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported male clothing, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the manhood I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms quite like David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my own identity.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying 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. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as gay was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening prospect.

I required several more years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and since I'm content with my physical form, I am able to.