I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - David Bowie Helped Me Uncover the Reality

In 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie display opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my gender identity and romantic inclinations, seeking out clarity.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my companions and myself were without online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we turned toward pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured members who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the display - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my own identity.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped 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 knew for certain that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening prospect.

I required additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to adopt male characteristics: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially all his life. I aimed to transition into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor soon after. It took further time before my transition was complete, but none of the things I feared occurred.

I maintain many of my female characteristics, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.