I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Reality

In 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, looking to find answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned male clothing, Boy George wore women's fashion, and bands such as well-known groups featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, 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 reduced excitement. I felt a momentary pang of empathy for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to rip it all off and emulate the artist. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier prospect.

I required several more years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and started wearing masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and since I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.