I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

In 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to music icons, and during the 80s, artists were playing with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were openly gay.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his defined jawline and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip back to the UK at the V&A, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was looking for when I entered the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the music video for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near 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 were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the accompanying performers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - frustrated and eager, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Just as 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 unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his narrow hips and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. And yet I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in New York City, five years later, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor not long after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I accept this. I sought the ability to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.