People saw me as an alpha male – but I was always a trans woman

I looked intimidating, but I was lying to myself (Picture: Andi King) Back in 2022 I looked like I’d walked off the set of a Viking drama. I was six foot tall, 17 stone, with big muscles, a beard, braided hair and tattoos inked onto the shaved sides of my head. People used to take a second look at me in the street – they’d sometimes even cross it to avoid me. I looked intimidating, but I was lying to myself. Because underneath all of that was a woman and she’d been there my whole life. After 52 years of being this Viking, I finally started my transition Look beyond the headlines Get a curated list of the most important stories of the weekend every Sunday from our weekend editor Jess Austin. Look beyond the headlines with exclusive articles, emotive interviews and must-read explainers from our expert team of reporters across news, lifestyle and entertainment. Sign up here. Looking back, I feel a mix of euphoria that I can finally be me and a tinge of sadness at the decades missed where I felt trapped. I was three when I first asked my mum why I was in a boy’s skin and not a girl’s. I got in trouble for dressing up with the girls instead of playing football (Picture: Andi King) ‘Because you are a boy, Andrew,’ she said. Somehow I already knew that she was wrong. Ask Metro Use AI to go deeper into the stories you care about – powered by Metro and trusted publications. At pre-school, I got in trouble for dressing up with the girls instead of playing football and doctors, parents, and teachers agreed I would grow out of it. But I didn’t. As a kid, I would wear my t-shirt’s as a skirt in bed, graduating then to my mum’s actual clothes once I was old enough to be left alone in the house. By the time I was 18, when I got a wage and a car, I ordered women’s clothes from catalogues, hid them in the boot and drove to a quiet beach on the weekends to walk the sand as myself after dark. It was liberating. I wasn’t prepared for how everything would change – so I embraced the wrong body (Picture: Andi King) Then on Monday I’d return to being the man I didn’t feel like. When the internet arrived I found a word for what I was: transsexual, was what was used at the time. I read about hormones and surgery, but didn’t have the courage at the time to take the plunge. I was scared of the effect it would have on my life – I wasn’t prepared for how everything would change – so I embraced the wrong body. So I built Andy instead – bouncer, martial arts enthusiast, gym obsessive – an alpha male. Working in the Philippines a few years later, I became known as ‘Andy the Viking’. By 54 I was drinking heavily and self-harming (Picture: Andi King) But he was my armour and sometimes my work meant I was caught up in violence – I’m ashamed to say I revelled in it. By 54 I was drinking heavily and self-harming, all while holding down a high flying financial job. I was struggling with who I was – the Viking was starting to kill me. I had been with my partner for 20 years by that point, and she watched all of it, powerless to stop. A week before my 55th birthday in 2022, something in me shifted. I knew I was deteriorating and I didn’t want to die in a man’s body. So I made the decision in the kitchen, there and then – I was finally going to transition. No going back, no reverse gear. Queer Hope & Joy Metro is sharing stories of Queer Hope & Joy, where we are centring stories that platform the vibrancy, diversity and resilience of the LGBTQ+ community. This is running alongside LGBT Foundation's Hope Starts Here campaign, and will represent as many LGBTQ+ identities as possible, while spreading hope and joy at a time it is very much needed. Find out more about LGBT Foundation's campaign here. To submit your story of your Queer Hope & Joy send your pitches to: sharan.dhaliwal@metro.co.uk My partner was shocked, confused and devastated. But promised we would work through it. I was fortunate – my job’s private healthcare covered the hormone treatment and gender affirming surgery I needed. Luckily, when I told my boss and colleagues, they were right behind me. So were my sons and my brother – telling me ‘as long as you’re happy, that’s what counts’. My mum needed longer, so I ended up telling her in December 2023 – pragmatic and devastated in the same breath, she said she couldn’t face seeing me ‘with boobs.’ We spoke, I cried, and mum held me (Picture: Andi King) So we stopped seeing each other, however we talked every week for three years, about nothing much, while I had nine facial operations and implants, all paid for myself. Everything changed however, when two days before my birthday this June, my brother talked her into a pub lunch. It was the best present I’ve ever had. We spoke, I cried, and mum held me – later, she told me it was incredibly hard, but she loved me no matter what. My partner had the hardest job of all – the Andy she’d committed twenty years to had just blown her life apart. He died that night and she had to decide whether to walk away or stay. I don’t look back with regret – I’ve had a good life (Picture: Andi King) Luckily, she did the latter. We live together now as best friends, in a relationship that isn’t intimate anymore but is still, somehow, everything. I couldn’t do any of this without her and she supports me wholeheartedly. I can understand why I assumed that character – to build the most masculine man that I could. But I don’t look back with regret – I’ve had a good life, I have my family, I’ve travelled the world and after all the past is impossible to change. Through the process, I found out that transitioning isn’t just about hormones and surgery. Nobody wakes up deciding being trans sounds fun (Picture: Andi King) I had to learn to walk, talk, dress, and exist as the real me, from scratch. Going to a shopping centre, passport control, or wearing a bikini on a beach was no easy feat. Trust me, nobody wakes up deciding being trans sounds fun – it’s one of the hardest things you can be. Being a woman was never just about the body I was born into – it’s about what’s inside, about how I feel. I spent 55 years finding the courage to say so. Andy the Viking was the armour, the fists, a shield of a false identity. But, the only person he was ever really fighting was me. Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. Share your views in the comments below. Arrow MORE: It took 3 years for my sexual assault case to go to court – then I was called a liar Arrow MORE: We were laying in bed when my date told me about the woman he planned to marry Arrow MORE: He kept scheduling sex like it was a meeting – I hated it The Sunday Edit Look beyond the headlines with exclusive articles, emotive interviews and must-read explainers from our expert team of reporters across news, lifestyle and entertainment.