I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years before the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, living in the US.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported masculine attire, Boy George embraced girls' clothes, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were publicly out.

I craved his narrow hips and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had once given up.

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

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the show - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, discover a clue to my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the boredom 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 momentary pang of empathy for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were longing for it all to be over. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I needed additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning 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 challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics 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 could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. The process required another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.