I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Realize the Truth

In 2011, several years prior to the celebrated David Bowie show opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, living in the America.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and attraction preferences, looking to find answers.

My birthplace was England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. As teenagers, my friends and I were without social platforms or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we turned toward celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced feminine outfits, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured performers who were openly gay.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

Throughout the 90s, I passed my days riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw back towards the manhood I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit returning to England at the V&A, with the expectation that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I entered the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the primary position, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they were chewing and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their reduced excitement. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the supporting artists, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his narrow hips and his precise cut, his strong features and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the lean-figured, Bowie's German period. However I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a separate matter, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the potential for denial and remorse had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

Once the David Bowie display concluded its international run with a engagement in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the same video in 2018, I knew for certain that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took additional years before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I feared materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I can.