I Believed That I Identified As a Gay Woman - The Legendary Artist Helped Me Uncover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years prior to the acclaimed David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I came out as a gay woman. Until that moment, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated mother of four, residing in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my sense of self and romantic inclinations, searching for 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 lacked access to online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had curiosities about intimacy; rather, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer wore masculine attire, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and pop groups such as popular ensembles featured members who were openly gay.

I desired his lean physique and defined hairstyle, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

During the nineties, I passed my days riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My husband moved our family to the America in 2007, but when our relationship dissolved I felt an undeniable attraction returning to the manhood I had once given up.

Considering that no artist experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a summer trip back to the UK at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I didn't know precisely what I was seeking when I stepped inside the exhibition - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the opulence of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a insight into my true nature.

Before long I was facing a modest display where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the front, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and rolled their eyes at the monotony of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie performed brightly, seemingly unaware to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, awkward hairpieces and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to end. Just as I understood I connected with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Shocker. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

Right then, I knew for certain that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his lean physique and his defined hairstyle, his strong features and his male chest; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me additional years before I was ready. During that period, I made every effort to embrace manhood: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and commenced using men's clothes.

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

After the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, after half a decade, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the challenge didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I desired to change into the person in the polished attire, moving in the illumination, and now I realized that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. It took another few years before my transition was complete, but none of the fears I anticipated occurred.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I'm OK with that. I desired the liberty to experiment with identity following Bowie's example - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.