I Was Convinced That I Identified As a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Uncover the Truth

In 2011, a few years before the acclaimed David Bowie display opened at the renowned Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I declared myself a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single caregiver to four kids, making my home in the United States.

At that time, I had started questioning both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

I entered the world in England during the beginning of the seventies - pre-world wide web. When we were young, my peers and I were without online forums or digital content to reference when we had questions about sex; conversely, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and in that decade, artists were playing with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist wore male clothing, Boy George wore girls' clothes, and pop groups such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured performers who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his slender frame and sharp haircut, his strong features and male chest. I sought to become the Bowie's Berlin period

Throughout the 90s, I spent my time operating a motorcycle and wearing androgynous clothing, but I reverted back to femininity when I chose to get married. My partner transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Since nobody played with gender as dramatically as David Bowie, I decided to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey visiting Britain at the gallery, with the expectation that perhaps he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I walked into the show - maybe I thought that by losing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, encounter a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself positioned before a compact monitor where the visual presentation for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking sharp in a charcoal outfit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the performers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals failed to move around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked disinterested and irritated. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance at the boredom of it all.

"Boys keep swinging, boys always work it out," Bowie sang cheerfully, apparently oblivious to their diminished energy. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, ill-fitting wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - annoyed and restless, as if they were longing for it all to conclude. Precisely when I realized I was identifying with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Of course, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I was absolutely sure that I wanted to remove everything and emulate the artist. I desired his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I aimed to personify the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but gender transition was a significantly scarier possibility.

I required additional years before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I ceased using cosmetics and threw away all my feminine garments, trimmed my tresses and commenced using masculine outfits.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I paused at surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in Brooklyn, New York, five years later, I went back. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Positioned before the familiar clip in 2018, I became completely convinced that the issue wasn't my clothes, it was my physical form. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been in costume all his life. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I was able to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional not long after. It took additional years before my transition was complete, but none of the things I anticipated came true.

I still have many of my traditional womanly traits, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to explore expression as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I can.