I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

In 2011, several years ahead of the renowned David Bowie display debuted at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Up to that point, I had only been with men, one of whom 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 personal gender and attraction preferences, searching for clarity.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself lacked access to online forums or digital content to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as well-known groups featured artists who were openly gay.

I wanted his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his strong features and masculine torso. I wanted to embody the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey returning to England at the gallery, hoping that perhaps he could help me figure it out.

I was uncertain precisely what I was looking for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, encounter a hint about my true nature.

Before long I was positioned before a modest display where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three backing singers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of inherent stars; rather they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to shed all constraints and emulate the artist. I craved his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his defined jawline and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. However I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. During that period, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, walked differently, and adopted new identifiers, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and remorse had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a stint in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be something I was not.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I maintain many of my traditional womanly traits, so others regularly misinterpret me for a queer man, but I accept this. 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.