I Thought Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years before the acclaimed David Bowie show launched at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, including one I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had commenced examining both my personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. During our youth, my friends and I didn't have social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

Annie Lennox wore boys' clothes, Boy George adopted women's fashion, and bands such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

Throughout the 90s, I lived driving a bike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the gallery, with the expectation that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain precisely what I was searching for when I entered the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had witnessed firsthand, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, 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, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to end. At the moment when I understood I connected 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. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I wanted to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his slender frame and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I sought to become the lean-figured, artist's Berlin phase. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as queer was one thing, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

I required several more years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at surgical procedures - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, following that period, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the identical footage in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, performing under lights, and now I realized 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 none of the things I feared came true.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.