I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Actual Situation

During 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

At that time, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself were without online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from pop stars, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned masculine attire, Boy George wore women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days driving a bike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood I had once given up.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the museum, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I desired his slender frame and his defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and his male chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. And yet I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting outlook.

I needed further time before I was ready. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and then I comprehended that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to play with gender like Bowie did - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.