I Thought That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a couple of years before the celebrated David Bowie display debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a freshly divorced parent to four children, residing in the US.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, searching for clarity.

Born in England during the early 1970s - prior to digital connectivity. When we were young, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and in that decade, artists were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I desired his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband relocated us to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit returning to England at the gallery, with the expectation that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, consequently, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, seemingly unaware to their reduced excitement. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in feminine attire - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

I required further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in New York City, five years later, I returned. I had arrived at a crisis. I was unable to continue acting to be something I was not.

Positioned before the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag all his life. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician not long after. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated materialized.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and since I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.