I Thought I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Actual Situation

Back in 2011, a couple of years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had married. Two years later, I found myself nearing forty-five, a newly single caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

During this period, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and sexual orientation, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my friends and I didn't have online forums or YouTube to reference when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, musicians were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer sported boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured artists who were publicly out.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his defined jawline and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I passed my days driving a bike and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I chose to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the gallery, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I lacked clarity precisely what I was searching for when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, as a result, encounter a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was positioned before a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the entertainers I had seen personally, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked disinterested and irritated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, appearing ignorant to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a significantly scarier outlook.

I required further time before I was willing. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie display completed its global journey with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I made arrangements to see a physician shortly afterwards. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but not a single concern I worried about occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.