I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Reality

During 2011, several years before the celebrated David Bowie exhibition debuted at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, making my home in the US.

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

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my peers and I were without Reddit or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to music icons, and in that decade, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, The Culture Club frontman adopted women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and male chest. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

During the nineties, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the museum, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

I soon found myself standing in front of a modest display where the music video for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They appeared to feel as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to rip it all off and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Berlin-era Bowie. And yet I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but gender transition was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and started wearing male attire.

I changed my seating posture, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and regret had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag 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 scheduled an appointment to see a physician soon after. It took another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.