I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - David Bowie Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

During 2011, a few years ahead of the acclaimed David Bowie show debuted at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. After a couple of years, I found myself nearing forty-five, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, living in the United States.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my sense of self and sexual orientation, seeking out understanding.

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my companions and myself didn't have online forums or video sharing sites to turn to when we had questions about sex; conversely, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist donned male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced girls' clothes, and musical acts such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and sharp haircut, his defined jawline and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I returned to femininity when I decided to wed. My spouse transferred our home to the United States in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the masculinity I had previously abandoned.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, hoping that possibly he could provide clarity.

I was uncertain specifically what I was looking for when I walked into the display - perhaps I hoped that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, discover a insight into my personal self.

Before long I was standing in front of a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the front, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while off to one side three supporting vocalists wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

In contrast to the drag queens I had seen personally, these ladies didn't glide around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked unenthused and frustrated. Relegated to the background, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the monotony of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in women's clothes - irritated and impatient, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them ripped off her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and showed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to remove everything and become Bowie too. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, artist's Berlin phase. However I couldn't, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Coming out as homosexual was one thing, but personal transformation was a much more frightening possibility.

It took me several more years before I was ready. During that period, I did my best to become more masculine: I abandoned beauty products and discarded all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and modified my personal references, but I paused at medical intervention - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie exhibition finished its world tour with a engagement in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had experienced a turning point. I couldn't go on pretending to be something I was not.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I knew for certain that the problem didn't involve my attire, it was my physical form. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and now I realized that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a medical professional soon after. I needed further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I worried about materialized.

I maintain many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a queer man, but I'm OK with that. I sought the ability to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.