I Believed I Was a Lesbian - The Music Icon Helped Me Discover the Truth

Back in 2011, several years before the renowned David Bowie display launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I declared myself a lesbian. Previously, I had solely pursued relationships with men, with one partner I had married. After a couple of years, I found myself in my early 40s, a freshly divorced caregiver to four kids, residing in the United States.

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

I entered the world in England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to Reddit or YouTube to turn to when we had questions about sex; instead, we sought guidance from celebrity musicians, and throughout the eighties, everyone was experimenting with gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported masculine attire, The Culture Club frontman embraced feminine outfits, and bands such as Erasure and Bronski Beat featured artists who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his lean physique and precise cut, his angular jaw and masculine torso. I aimed to personify the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I passed my days operating a motorcycle and dressing like a tomboy, but I returned to conventional female presentation when I chose to get married. My husband transferred our home to the US in 2007, but when the union collapsed I felt an powerful draw back towards the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Considering that no artist challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a warm-weather journey back to the UK at the V&A, anticipating that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I entered the exhibition - possibly I anticipated that by submerging my consciousness in the extravagance of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, as a result, stumble across a hint about my personal self.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a small television screen where the film clip for "the iconic song" was recurring endlessly. Bowie was moving with assurance in the primary position, looking sharp in a dark grey suit, while to the side three supporting vocalists dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Differing from the drag queens I had witnessed firsthand, these characters failed to move around the stage with the self-assurance of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Placed in secondary positions, they had gum in their mouths and expressed annoyance 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 momentary pang of understanding for the accompanying performers, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They gave the impression of as awkward as I did in women's clothes - annoyed and restless, as if they were hoping for it all to be over. At the moment when I realized I was identifying with three male performers in feminine attire, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and unveiled herself as ... Bowie! Shocker. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I knew for certain that I desired to shed all constraints and become Bowie too. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his masculine torso; I wanted to embody the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I was unable to, because to truly become Bowie, first I would require being a man.

Coming out as homosexual was a separate matter, but transitioning was a much more frightening prospect.

It took me additional years before I was ready. In the meantime, I tried my hardest to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and eliminated all my skirts and dresses, shortened my locks and started wearing men's clothes.

I changed my seating posture, walked differently, and changed my name and pronouns, but I stopped short of hormonal treatment - the chance of refusal and regret had left me paralysed with fear.

When the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a stint in Brooklyn, New York, after half a decade, I revisited. I had arrived at a crisis. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Facing the identical footage in 2018, I became completely convinced that the challenge wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I wasn't a masculine woman; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been in costume since birth. I aimed to transition into the person in the polished attire, performing under lights, and then I comprehended that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a medical professional soon after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the things I anticipated materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a homosexual male, but I accept this. I desired the liberty to play with gender as Bowie had - and given that I'm comfortable in my body, I have that capacity.