I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Made Me Discover the Reality

In 2011, a couple of years ahead of the renowned David Bowie show launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, one of whom I had wed. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and attraction preferences, seeking out answers.

Born in England during the dawn of the seventies era - prior to digital connectivity. As teenagers, my companions and myself didn't have social platforms or digital content to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; rather, we looked to music icons, and throughout the eighties, artists were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported boys' clothes, The Culture Club frontman embraced girls' clothes, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I craved his lean physique and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I decided to wed. My partner relocated us to the America in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction back towards the masculinity I had once given up.

Considering that no artist challenged norms as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to devote an open day during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that perhaps he could provide clarity.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I stepped inside the display - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the opulence of Bowie's norm-challenging expression, I might, as a result, discover a hint about my personal self.

I soon found myself positioned before a modest display where the music video for "that track" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking polished in a charcoal outfit, while off to one side three accompanying performers in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of natural performers; conversely they looked unenthused and frustrated. Placed in secondary positions, they were chewing and expressed annoyance at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of connection for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Of course, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I wanted to shed all constraints and transform like Bowie. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his defined jawline and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. And yet I found myself incapable, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and commenced using masculine outfits.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and adopted new identifiers, but I paused at surgical procedures - the potential for denial and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in New York City, after half a decade, I revisited. I had reached a breaking point. I was unable to continue acting to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced 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 throughout his existence. I desired to change into the individual in the stylish outfit, performing under lights, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my transformation concluded, but not a single concern I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so individuals frequently misidentify me for a homosexual male, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I wanted the freedom to explore expression like Bowie did - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I am able to.