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There were several points in 2024 when Victorian upper house MP Georgie Purcell thought about quitting politics.
There was the moment when the state Labor government, despite launching its own inquiry that recommended outlawing duck hunting, chose to let it continue – undermining the very goal that motivated Purcell to enter parliament.
Then, just a day later, she found herself the subject of international headlines – not for her reaction to the announcement – but for a photo edited to make her breasts look bigger and expose her midriff, broadcast on the evening news.
There was the “constant gossip” in the corridors of parliament, which only intensified when her relationship with a federal Labor MP was made public before either of them were ready.
And through it all, a relentless barrage of misogynistic abuse, rape and death threats on social media.
“I joke about the online criticism but it’s definitely a coping mechanism, it’s actually quite horrific,” the Animal Justice party MP says.
“The worst part is how immune I’ve become to it. It’s not normal to read this sort of stuff with a straight face.
“It’s made me start asking myself, can I go on? Can I keep doing this?
“And do I even want to?”
Death threats and a doctored photo
Purcell’s path into politics followed a familiar route: she worked in the union movement, then in superannuation and for former Animal Justice party MP Andy Meddick.
But she doesn’t look like other politicians – nor does she want to. Heavily tattooed (“only the painful parts of my body are left”), with a platinum blond bob, thick lash extensions and lip filler, Purcell ran for parliament because she wanted to challenge what a conventional politician should look and act like.
Born and raised in Inverleigh, a small town near Geelong, she grew up attending Sunday school at a local Presbyterian church (she is no longer religious) and became “an outspoken little vegetarian” at four when she saw a truckload of pigs drive past her home after watching the movie Babe.
Twenty-one years after she wrote an election song called Polling Booth Rock, Purcell was sworn into Victorian parliament at just 30. She has since worked to secure pill testing and greater transparency for the greyhound racing industry, and has advocated for sex workers and chaired an upper house committee.
And she has done it while sporting purple Crocs bedazzled with Jibbitz in the chamber, with her office adorned with fan art from Law & Order SVU (she also has a Benson and Stabler tattoo) and a social media following that includes White Lotus star Jennifer Coolidge, as well as Australian influencers, artists and musicians. (Mallrat recently performed in Purcell’s paddock and described the MP as a “hero”).
There’s also the menagerie of animals on the 2.8 hectare property in Kyneton, in central Victoria, including four rescue cats and a King Charles cavalier and two dachshunds rescued from puppy farms. She also has 15 orphaned lambs, two horses, and is looking after a shetland pony.
They all make appearances in Purcell’s videos on Instagram and TikTok, alongside others on feminism and veganism, garnering her reach other politicians can only dream of, as well as offers of brand partnerships and reality TV appearances, which she has declined.
David Imber, a communications professional and “spin doctor” on ABC Radio Melbourne, says Purcell has built a “national brand” by using social media in a way that “resonates with the people she wants to attract as voters”.
“She posts selfies, photos of her food, her tatts, and by doing so, she shows up some of the more traditional politicians, including those on the left,” he says.
“The only risk is that if you’re going into that influencer space and sharing so much of yourself, then nothing becomes off limits.”
It’s something Purcell is increasingly aware of.
“There’s probably more of an intense interest or fascination about me, because I’ve offered more of myself to public life than most politicians would,” she says.
This was evident during her time on the committee set up by the government to consider a ban on duck hunting, where she faced abuse from hunters.
“There were times I absolutely felt unsafe,” she says. “I won’t ever do a listening post where I share my location and tell people to come chat, because – not to be dramatic – I’ve had legitimate, specific death threats made against me.”
The day after the government announced the 2024 duck hunting season would go ahead, the doctored photo of Purcell appeared on Nine News. Nine later apologised, claiming the image was a result of “automation by Photoshop”, which Adobe refuted.
“I saw that news report, and I sent it to my staff and was like, ‘I’m certain that’s not what I was wearing,’ mainly because I have tattoos on that part of my stomach,” she says.
“It wasn’t until they wrote back … ‘Georgie, this is fucking appalling. You have to say something’ that I realised how bad it was. It’s a good example of the unhealthy resilience that women get in public life.”
Purcell’s profile rose when outlets including the BBC and the New York Times reported on the image, but it was “the worst week” she has had at work.
“I hit a period of hopelessness,” she says.
Purcell has also been subject to a relentless tirade of abuse. In the last month alone, she has received comments on social media, seen by Guardian Australia, that read: “You slart [sic]. Hopefully you get pierced through the throat by a bow hunter. That’s all you deserve you dirty piece of trash that use [sic] to get your kit off for cash”, “go back to stripping your [sic] clearly a great Slut” and “no one respectable, respects you”.
In a duck hunting Facebook page, one comment read “what would the old school Germans made [sic] of her? A decorative lampshade perhaps”. Another, on Instagram, reads, “walk onto a train track so that the train hits you and you die”.
Purcell says she reports messages and comments to her security representative at parliamentary services, who then passes on threatening ones to police.
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“While I report these threats, the reality is the laws to protect women against threats online are basically nonexistent and until someone attacks me in real life there’s little pathway to action,” she says.
‘An unsafe workplace’
Public attention has recently centred on Purcell’s new relationship with Josh Burns, the federal Labor MP for Macnamara and prominent member of the Jewish community.
Purcell has been a longstanding advocate for Palestine – one of the first Australian MPs to call for a ceasefire in parliament and among a small group who voted for an amendment acknowledging Palestinian deaths in Gaza during a condolence motion condemning the 7 October Hamas attacks. In May, she spoke in parliament about supporting the visa applications of two Palestinian families, and on her Instagram, she has gathered donations for 13-year-old Khadija, whose home has been destroyed in the war.
But after the relationship with Burns became public, pro-Palestinian activists accused Purcell of exploiting the conflict for personal gain and questioned her commitment to the cause.
It led Purcell to think more deeply about “purity politics” and the demand for conformity on the political left, which she says leaves little room for nuance or disagreement and risks alienating potential allies.
“I’m not saying we should make concessions on our core beliefs … but we also need to get better at having conversations with people who hold different views,” she says.
Purcell says her values align with Burns’ “in a lot of ways”, citing his advocacy for a live export ban, but there are “issues we see differently”.
“I see my responsibility on [the war in Gaza] as continuing to be an advocate for the Palestinian people and Josh takes his responsibility representing the Jewish community seriously. For both of us, these two are not opposing causes,” she says.
“In saying that, I am my own politician – and as much as I love the guy, it isn’t my job to speak on behalf of my boyfriend or clarify his views.”
Purcell says she continues to post online about Palestine despite the criticism, much of which she says is sexualised.
“It’s not about who I’m dating, it’s about who I’m fucking – and other really descriptive commentary that removes my agency,” Purcell says.
She says while the couple is “actually kind of boring” – most of their limited downtime is spent at one of their homes, watching SVU, with Burns cooking and Purcell on wine duties – the interest in their relationship is “one of the most overwhelming things” she has experienced since entering politics.
The couple made their official public debut at Canberra’s 2024 Midwinter Ball, but the relationship had been revealed in the press before this, after someone saw them out together and told a journalist.
This exposure led Purcell to “spiral”, and she realises now it reminded her of being outed years earlier for working as a topless waitress during her university studies. The experience led her to quit the job and finish her studies online, as well as “shrink” herself during the early days of her legal career.
The public scrutiny over the relationship also exposed a double standard.
“He’s seen as the good Jewish boy and I’m seen as the ex-stripper,” Purcell says. “He got a pat on the back and I was the subject of gossip and people talking behind my back.”
She says gossip concerning her sex life, appearance and relationships with male MPs has been “constant” during her time in parliament.
“It didn’t shock me because I had spent four years working as a staffer,” she says. “But I think there’s been a particular flavour to the gossip about me, because people have a certain idea of me.”
“I genuinely think it’s an unsafe workplace.”
She says it has led her to feel “isolated”, despite the record number of female MPs in the chamber. Three Labor MPs confirmed there was a “mean girls clique” at parliament when approached by Guardian Australia.
Asked about this, Purcell says: “The women in parliament are like a sisterhood with exceptions. They say, ‘We’re for more women in politics but no – not that kind of woman.’”
A crossbencher’s duty
After the summer break , Purcell wants to give the next two years of her term her all, aware there’s “no guarantee of re-election” as a crossbencher.
She plans to focus on dismantling duck shooting by banning it from protected wetlands, ensuring the government follows through on promised animal protection laws, and push for greater action on femicide, regional abortion access, and medical misogyny – an issue she understands deeply after battling two undiagnosed autoimmune diseases and recently having surgery to remove an IUD perforating her uterus that “took four GP visits to get a proper diagnosis”.
Purcell is also driven in part, she says, by her fear of a possible Coalition government and points the blame directly at Labor for being “a monumental letdown” in recent years due to “playing it safe”.
“Even if we have rightwing governments, which could happen in Victoria soon, the crossbench keeps them in line,” she says.
“I feel like I have a bit of a duty to do it.”
