I Believed I Was a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Made Me Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a gay woman. Previously, I had only been with men, one of whom I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a freshly divorced parent to four children, living in the United States.

At that time, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. During our youth, my friends and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to consult when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and during the 80s, everyone was playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The flamboyant singer adopted girls' clothes, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were openly gay.

I wanted his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and male chest. I aimed to personify the Bowie's Berlin period

During the nineties, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My spouse relocated us to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a summer trip returning to England at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I walked into the display - possibly I anticipated that by losing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, in turn, encounter a hint about my personal self.

Before long I was facing a compact monitor where the film clip for "that track" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a slate-colored ensemble, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of natural performers; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes 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 understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. At the moment when I recognized my alignment with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his slender frame and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as gay was a separate matter, but gender transition was a much more frightening outlook.

I required several more years before I was prepared. Meanwhile, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and discarded all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using men's clothes.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show completed its global journey with a stint in New York City, five years later, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my physical form. 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 person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I could.

I booked myself in to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I still have many of my female characteristics, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender like Bowie did - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.