I Thought Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my companions and myself were without Reddit or digital content to consult when we had questions about sex; instead, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a summer trip returning to England at the museum, hoping that possibly 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 opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I wanted to rip it all off and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.