Jennifer Hines calls herself a “girly girl,” but she’s confident that when she walks out in the role of the banished King Bertarido in Handel’s opera “Rodelinda” she’ll pass for a man.

“I love wearing heels, but my costume has these boots that make me walk taller and stand differently, act differently,” says the 5-2 contralto.

Hines’ voice type is a rare thing, lower than a mezzo-soprano. Its range and velvety tones have been her destiny. “One reviewer called me a glorious freak of nature,” she says proudly. In front of people who don’t know her, “I start to sing and people start to laugh, like they expected a soprano.”

On stage, however, it’s different. “It’s my job to make the audience really believe I’m a man, so they can delve into the story.”

Her first aria will be the test. The banished king spies on his wife and son as they lay flowers at his memorial. After they’re gone he sings “Dove sei?” or ‘Where are you?”

“I’m saying, ‘How could you come here every day and not know that I’m here?’ I’m trying to show he still has strength in his weakness, that he’s still king.”

Hines has a Long Island accent and looks like Drea de Matteo playing Adriana in “The Sopranos” (she has a tiny dog, Gizmo, keeping her company right now) — not your typical classical music geek image.

But her pedigree couldn’t be more Upper West Side. Her preschool teacher spotted her singing ability. Her opera-fan father (a heart surgeon) took her to see Wagner’s “Siegfried” at the Met when she was 6, and she sang with the Met’s junior chorus from then until age 14.

High school, (the School of Music & Art) college (Juilliard), work (she’s frequently with the New York City Opera) and home all revolve around Lincoln Center.

Hines believes that everyone has experienced loss and should be able to sympathize deeply with the character. (She will be drawing on the recent death of her other dog, Angel, for inspiration. She suspects the dog was battered with a vacuum cleaner by an enraged cleaning lady.)

Her goal? “At the end of that aria there should be silence, just for a second, before they applaud.”

The 35-year-old is perhaps unfamiliar with Portland audiences, who would give the ushers a standing ovation if they ever took a bow. This is her Portland Opera debut, although she was here once before, in January 2007, when she recorded the title role of Astor Piazzolla’s “Maria de Buenos Aires,” with Third Angle New Music Ensemble.

She counts this as her most exciting role yet and credits Portland Opera’s general director, Christopher Mattaliano — who taught her when she was a 17-year-old at Juilliard — for taking a chance and giving her a role typically sung by a man.

Jaw surgery last October scared Hines since she thought she might never sing again, but she recovered her art.

“I used to get such stage fright, I’d be physically ill, but I don’t get it anymore. Now I think I’m blessed that I come to work and get to hear this music and get to sing. It’s like someone took away a little bit of what I had to make me realize how lucky I am.”

— Joseph Gallivan