I Was Convinced I Was a Lesbian - The Legendary Artist Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, several years prior to the renowned David Bowie exhibition opened at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a lesbian. Previously, I had only been with men, with one partner I had entered matrimony with. Two years later, I found myself in my early 40s, a newly single parent to four children, making my home in the US.

Throughout this phase, I had begun to doubt both my personal gender and romantic inclinations, searching for understanding.

Born in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. During our youth, my companions and myself were without online forums or YouTube to consult when we had questions about sex; rather, we looked to celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was challenging gender norms.

The Eurythmics singer donned boys' clothes, The flamboyant singer wore women's fashion, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I wanted his narrow hips and sharp haircut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I decided to wed. My spouse moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an irresistible pull revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Considering that no artist played with gender to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to use some leisure time during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that maybe he could guide my understanding.

I was uncertain specifically what I was searching for when I walked into the exhibition - maybe I thought that by submerging my consciousness in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, stumble across a hint about my own identity.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a compact monitor where the music video for "that track" was playing on repeat. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking stylish in a dark grey suit, while positioned laterally three backing singers wearing women's clothing clustered near a microphone.

Unlike the drag queens I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals didn't glide around the stage with the confidence of born divas; conversely they looked bored and annoyed. 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 voiced happily, apparently oblivious to their lack of enthusiasm. I felt a momentary pang of understanding for the backing singers, with their thick cosmetics, awkward hairpieces and constricting garments.

They appeared to feel as awkward as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to end. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three individuals presenting as female, one of them ripped off her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Understandably, there were two other David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I desired to remove everything and emulate the artist. I wanted his lean physique and his precise cut, his angular jaw and his flat chest; I aimed to personify the slender-shaped, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I found myself incapable, because to genuinely embody Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was one thing, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting outlook.

It took me several more years before I was prepared. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to embrace manhood: I stopped wearing makeup and threw away all my women's clothing, trimmed my tresses and commenced using male attire.

I sat differently, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of surgical procedures - the chance of refusal and second thoughts had caused me to freeze with apprehension.

After the David Bowie show concluded its international run with a presentation in New York City, after half a decade, I returned. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the problem wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I wasn't simply a tomboy; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been wearing drag throughout his existence. I aimed to transition into the individual in the stylish outfit, moving in the illumination, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I booked myself in to see a doctor not long after. I needed further time before my personal journey finished, but none of the fears I worried about came true.

I still have many of my feminine mannerisms, so others regularly misinterpret me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender following Bowie's example - and given that I'm content with my physical form, I have that capacity.