I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, one of whom I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated parent to four children, residing in the US.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I lacked clarity exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my true nature.

I soon found myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I needed additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and since I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.