I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Realize the Truth

Back in 2011, a few years ahead of the celebrated David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, living in the United States.

During this period, I had commenced examining both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for answers.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we sought guidance from music icons, and throughout the eighties, artists were experimenting with gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman adopted feminine outfits, and bands such as well-known groups featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days riding a motorbike and adopting masculine styles, but I went back to femininity when I decided to wed. My husband transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the male identity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody experimented with identity quite like David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the V&A, hoping that maybe he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know precisely what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - perhaps I hoped that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a clue to my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was continuously looping. Bowie was performing confidently in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three supporting vocalists in feminine attire gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters failed to move around the stage with the poise of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they had gum in their mouths and showed impatience at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They gave the impression of as ill-at-ease as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to end. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, removed the cosmetics from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were additional David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I became completely convinced that I aimed to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I desired his lean physique and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

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

I needed several more years before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, cut off my hair and began donning male attire.

I changed my seating posture, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

Once the David Bowie exhibition completed its global journey with a stint in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my biological self. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a male with feminine qualities who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, dancing in the spotlight, and then I comprehended that I could.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. I needed another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I feared occurred.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm comfortable with that outcome. I sought the ability to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm at peace with myself, I can.