I Was Convinced Myself to Be a Lesbian - The Music Icon Enabled Me to Discover the Truth

In 2011, a few years prior to the celebrated David Bowie exhibition launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK capital, I publicly announced a homosexual woman. Until that moment, I had exclusively dated men, with one partner I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a newly single mother of four, making my home in the United States.

During this period, I had started questioning both my personal gender and attraction preferences, seeking out understanding.

My birthplace was England during the beginning of the seventies - before the internet. As teenagers, my friends and I lacked access to social platforms or YouTube to reference when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; conversely, we looked to celebrity musicians, and during the 80s, musicians were challenging gender norms.

The iconic vocalist sported male clothing, The flamboyant singer embraced women's fashion, and musical acts such as well-known groups featured artists who were publicly out.

I wanted his narrow hips and precise cut, his defined jawline and flat chest. I sought to become the Berlin-era Bowie

In that decade, I spent my time riding a motorbike and wearing androgynous clothing, but I went back to traditional womanhood when I chose to get married. My husband moved our family to the US in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an irresistible pull returning to the masculinity I had earlier relinquished.

Given that no one challenged norms to the extent of David Bowie, I opted to spend a free afternoon during a seasonal visit visiting Britain at the museum, hoping that possibly he could guide my understanding.

I didn't know specifically what I was seeking when I stepped inside the show - perhaps I hoped that by immersing myself in the richness of Bowie's identity exploration, I might, consequently, discover a clue to my true nature.

Quickly I discovered myself facing a modest display where the film clip for "Boys Keep Swinging" was playing on repeat. Bowie was strutting his stuff in the foreground, looking stylish in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three accompanying performers dressed in drag gathered around a microphone.

Unlike the performers I had encountered in real life, these characters weren't sashaying around the stage with the poise 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.

"Those words, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a fleeting feeling of empathy for the supporting artists, with their heavy makeup, uncomfortable wigs and restrictive outfits.

They seemed to experience as uncomfortable as I did in feminine attire - frustrated and eager, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Precisely when I understood I connected with three individuals presenting as female, one of them removed her wig, wiped the makeup from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Revelation. (Understandably, there were further David Bowies as well.)

In that instant, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and transform like Bowie. I wanted his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his strong features and his male chest; I sought to become the slim-silhouetted, Berlin-era Bowie. Nevertheless I couldn't, because to truly become Bowie, first I would need to be a man.

Announcing my identity as homosexual was a different challenge, but personal transformation was a considerably more daunting prospect.

I needed further time before I was willing. Meanwhile, I made every effort to become more masculine: I stopped wearing makeup and eliminated all my feminine garments, cut off my hair and began donning men's clothes.

I altered how I sat, walked differently, and modified my personal references, but I halted before medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

Once the David Bowie display finished its world tour with a engagement in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I found it impossible to maintain the facade to be a person I wasn't.

Facing the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my body. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a man with gentle characteristics who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the man in the sharp suit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I could.

I scheduled an appointment to see a medical professional not long after. It took further time before my transformation concluded, but none of the fears I feared materialized.

I continue to possess many of my feminine mannerisms, so people often mistake me for a gay man, but I'm OK with that. I wanted the freedom to play with gender as Bowie had - and now that I'm comfortable in my body, I am able to.