THE WOMAN BEHIND THE MASK

Phillis Rolli, 70, has spent most of her life pretending to be someone else

- MISHAAL KHAN, ELLIE FLEMING

Staring at my reflection, I puffed out my chest and jutted my chin so far that it was almost touching the mirror. I ran a hand through my beard and admired the tattoo of a girl and a panther etched across my forearm. My muscles, built during my career in the Navy, were defined and visible through my T-shirt and, at 20-years-old, I looked manlier than I ever had.

It was 1973 and this was the image that I wanted the world to see. I had perfected the macho man performance. And that is exactly what it was - an act. 

I was five when I realised I wasn't a boy. It was 1958 and my father had caught me rummaging though my grandmother's clothes, pulling on floral dresses and tapping across the hall in high heels.

I'm a girl, I'd shouted, defiantly. But my femininity threw my dad into a rage. 'You're a boy, Phillip, always remember that, he'd screamed in my face. I'd been too afraid to try again.

But I continued to be curious and as a teenager would rifle through my mum's wardrobe, admiring her clothes, touching the gorgeous fabrics, yet never daring to try anything on.

HARROWING THOUGHTS

When I was 18, Dad sent me off to the Navy where I faced two harrowing years. I was attracted to men, my feelings about being a woman were strengthened in the masculine environment and I was plagued with thoughts of chopping off my testicles.

After leaving the Navy at 21, I trained to be a hairdresser, where I revelled in making women look beautiful. As I coiffed their hair and did their make-up, I imagined myself in their seat. It felt like I was channelling my buried feelings, yet I still showed up at the salon with my dark clothes, beard and tattoos. My family didn't question my new career - they had no reason to.