I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had wed. Two years later, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

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

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

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

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had once given up.

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, anticipating that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, in turn, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the film clip for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had seen personally, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; rather they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they were chewing and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of understanding for the supporting artists, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - frustrated and eager, as if they were hoping for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I was absolutely sure that I desired to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I desired his lean physique and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I needed further time before I was prepared. During that period, I tried my hardest to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and began donning masculine outfits.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the potential for denial and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. The process required further time before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret 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 content with my physical form, I can.