I Was Convinced I Was a Gay Woman - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Reality

Back in 2011, a couple of years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition launched at the prestigious Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a lesbian. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had wed. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated parent to four children, making my home in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had started questioning both my personal gender and sexual orientation, looking to find understanding.

I entered the world in England during the dawn of the seventies era - before the internet. When we were young, my friends and I were without Reddit or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, everyone was challenging gender norms.

Annie Lennox sported boys' clothes, Boy George adopted women's fashion, and bands such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his slender frame and precise cut, his strong features and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I reverted back to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband moved our family to the United States in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an undeniable attraction revisiting the manhood 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 back to the UK at the V&A, with the expectation that maybe he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by immersing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a small television screen where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three accompanying performers wearing women's clothing gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of inherent stars; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and rolled their eyes at the tedium of it all.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their thick cosmetics, ill-fitting wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were yearning for it all to conclude. Precisely when I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them tore off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I was absolutely sure that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Declaring myself as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required further time before I was prepared. During that period, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I sat differently, modified my gait, and changed my name and pronouns, but I halted before hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and remorse had rendered me immobile with anxiety.

After the David Bowie exhibition concluded its international run with a presentation in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't my clothes, it was my body. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been wearing drag since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and now I realized that I was able to.

I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor soon after. I needed another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated occurred.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender like Bowie did - and now that I'm at peace with myself, I have that capacity.