I Thought That I Identified As a Homosexual Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Realize the Truth

During 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single mother of four, residing in the US.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or YouTube to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore male clothing, The Culture Club frontman wore feminine outfits, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured performers who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and flat chest. I sought to become the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to femininity when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to devote an open day during a summer trip back to the UK at the museum, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the primary position, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three supporting vocalists in feminine attire crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a brief sensation of empathy for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a significantly scarier possibility.

I needed additional years before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at hormonal treatment - the potential for denial and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I went back. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required additional years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.