I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Actual Situation

In 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the America.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my gender identity and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or digital content to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned boys' clothes, Boy George embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was looking for when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, discover a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

In contrast to the entertainers I had seen personally, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of born divas; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, awkward hairpieces and too-tight dresses.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me further time before I was willing. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my feminine garments, shortened my locks and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and modified my personal references, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. I needed additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I feared came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to explore expression as Bowie had - and since I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.