I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Reality

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and flat chest. I wanted to embody the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the masculinity I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the show - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required several more years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

When the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my body. 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 individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.