I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie show debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a homosexual woman. Previously, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find clarity.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - pre-world wide web. As teenagers, my peers and I lacked access to online forums or digital content to reference when we had curiosities about intimacy; conversely, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and male chest. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to femininity when I opted for marriage. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one played with gender quite like David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was seeking when I stepped inside the display - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise of inherent stars; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I wanted to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but gender transition was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I did my best to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, shortened my locks and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before medical intervention - the potential for denial and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I feared materialized.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.