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

In 2011, a couple of years before the renowned David Bowie show launched at the famous Victoria and Albert Museum in England, I publicly announced a lesbian. Up to that point, I had exclusively dated men, including one I had married. By 2013, I found myself approaching middle age, a recently separated caregiver to four kids, residing in the America.

At that time, I had started questioning both my gender identity and attraction preferences, looking to find understanding.

My birthplace was England during the early 1970s - before the internet. As teenagers, my companions and myself were without online forums or video sharing sites to consult when we had inquiries regarding sexuality; instead, we looked to pop stars, and throughout the eighties, musicians were playing with gender norms.

Annie Lennox donned male clothing, Boy George wore feminine outfits, and musical acts such as popular ensembles featured members who were proudly homosexual.

I desired his narrow hips and defined hairstyle, his strong features and flat chest. I wanted to embody the artist's German phase

In that decade, I lived operating a motorcycle and adopting masculine styles, but I returned to traditional womanhood when I opted for marriage. My husband transferred our home to the America in 2007, but when the marriage ended I felt an powerful draw revisiting the male identity I had previously abandoned.

Given that no one experimented with identity to the extent of David Bowie, I chose to use some leisure time during a seasonal visit back to the UK at the museum, with the expectation that possibly he could help me figure it out.

I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I entered the show - possibly I anticipated that by immersing myself in the extravagance of Bowie's gender experimentation, I might, consequently, encounter a clue to my true nature.

Before long I was facing a small television screen where the music video for "Boys Keep Swinging" was continuously looping. Bowie was moving with assurance in the foreground, looking polished in a slate-colored ensemble, while to the side three backing singers dressed in drag crowded round a microphone.

Differing from the entertainers I had encountered in real life, these female-presenting individuals weren't sashaying around the stage with the confidence of born divas; instead they looked bored and annoyed. Positioned as supporting acts, they chewed gum and showed impatience at the tedium of it all.

"The song's lyrics, boys always work it out," Bowie voiced happily, appearing ignorant to their diminished energy. I felt a brief sensation of connection for the backing singers, with their pronounced make-up, uncomfortable wigs and too-tight dresses.

They appeared to feel as uncomfortable as I did in female clothing - irritated and impatient, as if they were yearning for it all to be over. Just as I recognized my alignment with three men dressed in drag, one of them removed her wig, smeared the lipstick from her face, and revealed herself to be ... Bowie! Surprise. (Naturally, there were further David Bowies as well.)

At that moment, I became completely convinced that I aimed to remove everything and become Bowie too. I craved his narrow hips and his sharp haircut, his angular jaw and his masculine torso; I sought to become the slender-shaped, Bowie's German period. However I was unable to, because to authentically transform into Bowie, first I would have to become a man.

Announcing my identity as queer was a different challenge, but transitioning was a considerably more daunting possibility.

I required further time before I was willing. In the meantime, I did my best to adopt male characteristics: I abandoned beauty products and threw away all my skirts and dresses, trimmed my tresses and started wearing masculine outfits.

I sat differently, changed my stride, and adopted new identifiers, but I stopped short of medical intervention - the possibility of rejection and second thoughts had left me paralysed with fear.

After the David Bowie show finished its world tour with a presentation in the American metropolis, following that period, I went back. I had reached a breaking point. I couldn't go on pretending to be an identity that didn't fit.

Standing in front of the familiar clip in 2018, I was absolutely sure that the issue wasn't about my clothing, it was my biological self. I didn't identify as a butch female; I was a feminine man who'd been presenting artificially since birth. I wanted to transform myself into the individual in the stylish outfit, dancing in the spotlight, and at that moment I understood that I had the capacity to.

I made arrangements to see a doctor shortly afterwards. The process required another few years before my personal journey finished, but none of the things I worried about came true.

I continue to possess many of my female characteristics, so others regularly misinterpret me for a gay man, but I accept this. I wanted the freedom to experiment with identity like Bowie did - and now that I'm content with my physical form, I can.