I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie display launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, looking to find clarity.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself were without online forums or video sharing sites to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we sought guidance from pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman wore women's fashion, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his slender frame and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain exactly what I was seeking when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, discover a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was standing in front of a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "the iconic song" was playing on repeat. Bowie was performing confidently in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them tore off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I desired to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as gay was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening possibility.

I needed additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I made every effort to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I feared came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.