I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had once given up.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I entered the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these characters failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender following Bowie's example - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I can.