I was an Army dad... who longed to be a model mum
Andi Halliley, 52, from Durham, swapped camouflage for dresses and heels...
Scribbling my name down, I felt proud. ‘Welcome to the Army,’ the recruiter smiled, reaching out to shake my hand.
It was 1985, and at 17 years old, I’d always been interested in the Military.
Both my grandfathers had served during WWII, one in the Royal Artillery and the other in the RAF.
It wasn’t long before I was enlisted into the Royal Regiment Of Fusiliers, an infantry regiment, and my parents were so proud.
Joining the Army must have been the most masculine path I could have taken – but while I was excited about my future, I was also hiding a secret, denying who I really was...
During the day, I’d be wearing combats and camouflage, but deep inside, I really wanted to be wearing silky tops, flowing skirts, jewellery and makeup.
I’d known I was different ever since I was a child.
Aged five, I’d stomped around the house in my mum’s dresses and high heels, feeling like a million dollars.
At school, I’d always dash for the dressing up box to don a princess gown at playtime, avoiding cars and football.
As a teen, I was bullied for having long hair and not being ‘tough’ enough.
I was certain that I’d been born in the wrong body.
I’d still sneak into Mum’s wardrobe when she was out, admire myself in the mirror wearing her dresses and heels.
Growing up in Manchester in the 70’s meant that ‘coming out’ and being my true self was never an option – so no one ever knew what I was doing behind closed doors.
As I reached adulthood, I became even more confused.
I buried my feelings, pushing any little niggles about my gender to the back of my mind and focusing on my career instead.
I thought joining the Army would erase all these feelings.
I rose up the ranks to Colour Sergeant, and four years later, in 1989, I married a lovely girl called Jenny*.
We soon had a daughter, Katie*, and life was great.
But even then, as much as I loved my little family, there was a woman inside begging to be let out. When
Jenny and Katie were out, I’d quietly rummage through my wife’s wardrobe.
I’d pick out a dress and slip it on.
‘That’s better,’ I’d smile, twirling in front of the mirror. It felt so natural. But feelings of guilt and fear would quickly creep in and
I would revert back to male-mode.
Two years later, in
1991, Jenny and I agreed that we were incompatible, and our marriage ended.
I continued to serve in the Army, touring Bosnia, Northern Ireland and Iraq.
But all the while, despite forming close friendships with my colleagues, no one knew that deep down, I identified as a woman.
While I fought in wars alongside brave men, there was my own secret war going on inside my head.
In 1999, I met and married another lovely lady called Joanne*.
Our daughter Ellie* came along in 2006, followed by our son Sam* in 2008.
I still saw my daughter Katie regularly, and I adored my family.
Even so, that niggling feeling would always be there, and soon, whenever I was alone, I’d find myself putting on my wife’s clothes.
Delving into her makeup bag, I carefully applied foundation, eyeshadow and lipstick, feeling more and more like myself with every layer of mascara.
I’d even start going out to shops on my own, buying my own flowery tops and skirts, even a pair of heels.
I knew for sure I was meant to be a woman, and every inch of me ached with a longing to let that woman free.
I wasn’t necessarily attracted to men – I was attracted to people for who they were, not because of their gender.
It was only in February 2015, when
I retired from the Army aged 45, that I finally felt brave enough to let my secret out.
My feelings by now were too strong to keep in any longer, and it was time to come clean to my family and live openly as a transgender woman.
‘I have something to tell you,’ I blurted out to Joanne, feeling sick with nerves.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘I was born in the wrong body,’ I said. ‘I’m transgender.’
As I explained as best I could, Joanne became angry, tears streaming down her face. She felt betrayed, as if our whole life together had been a lie.
‘This doesn’t change how I feel about you,’ I told her. ‘I still love you.’
It was a difficult conversation, but afterwards, I felt relieved – my secret was out.
After she had some time to process it, Joanne was actually very supportive, even joining me to do research on what it meant to be transgender.
I learnt that being transgender had nothing to do with sexuality – sexuality is who you go to bed with, while
I secretly put on my wife’s clothes
gender is who you go to bed as.
As the months passed, it felt like a weight had been lifted.
I had always been angry at a world that, I believed, kept people like me suppressed.
Now, after finally becoming the person I was meant to be, I felt so much happier.
Life changed dramatically after that.
Joanne and I lived separate lives under the same roof.
I’d put on a nice dress and full makeup to go out, and she was accepting of it, so long as the kids didn’t see – we weren’t ready to tell them yet.
In October 2015, I even attended Leeds First Friday, a transgender event where I got to meet other people like me.
Joanne even came along with me for support.
She was amazing, but after a year, we realised we couldn’t continue our relationship the way it was, and in 2016, I moved out.
I couldn’t blame her really – she’d married a man and was suddenly joined to someone who wanted with all their heart to be a woman. We remained friends, and after I found my own flat, I came out to the kids.
‘I’m still your dad,’ I explained to them afterwards. ‘I’ll always be your dad.’
Ellie, then 11, and Sam, eight, were really accepting of it all.
In fact, without saying a word, Ellie dashed to my bedroom, came out with my makeup bag and started giving me a makeover!
Even Katie, then 25, was very accepting when I told her.
The majority of my friends and wider family stuck by me as I came out to them.
I told them: ‘I’m Andrea now, not Andrew – but you can call me Andi.’
One former colleague even texted me saying; If you’re happy that’s all that matters.
Even Mum and Dad, now in their 80s, are OK with it.
In September 2016, my GP referred me to the NHS gender identity service in Leeds.
I knew it would take a long time, but I had finally begun the process of transforming into a woman.
What lies ahead it lots of counselling, hormone treatment, hair removal, and voice training.
And eventually, I’ll be able to have surgery to turn me into a woman physically.
To be sure I’m ready, I’ve been told I have to live as a woman for at least two years – which I’m more than happy to do.
I’ve been living as a woman ever since – in my own home and out in public.
At first it was a little nerve-wracking, but I soon realised that most people were too busy living their own lives to really notice.
I’ve not dated anyone as a woman – for now, I’m just focusing on myself.
I’m currently still in the NHS pipeline to receive support in my transition – I know it won’t happen overnight and I have to be patient.
In the meantime, though, I’m loving every minute of living as a woman.
I’ve even started modelling! At a burlesque event back in 2017, wearing a black latex dress, a flaming red wig and goth makeup, an agent there said I would be perfect to enter the Alternative Model of the Year contest.
Modelling had never crossed my mind, but I figured I was a new person now, so why not?
Amazingly, after a photoshoot, I made it to the competition’s catwalk final!
Last year I signed up to the Rogue Model Management agency, and while I’ve had no paid work yet, the alternative modelling community is such a friendly and supportive place and it has given me the confidence and opportunity to finally show the world who I really am – a beautiful person and woman.
I realise I’ll probably never model for M&S, but if Dior ever comes out with a new latex range, then I’m your girl!
My life has changed dramatically in the last few years – and I’m glad it has.
I have no regrets over joining the Military – it was an important time in my life – but I do regret wasting so much time not being me.
Everyone is so supportive of me – I have a great relationship with Katie, now 30, Ellie, 14, and Sam, 12.
Now, when I look in the mirror, I feel proud.
This is the real me.