I kind of like myself, you know, it's taken a long, long time, but that kid to become
this woman, she's had a go, and she's doing all right, and she's a good person, you know,
and that's what's important, I like her.
Hi, I'm Jess Rowe, and this is the Jess Rowe Big Talk Show, a podcast that skips the small talk
and goes big and deep. From love to loss and everything in between, I want to show you a
different side of people who seem to have it all together in these raw and honest conversations
about the things that matter. Leah Purcell is a creative force. She is one of Australia's leading
actors, writers and directors, with award-winning roles in theatre, film and television. She's a
proud Koagungurri Waka Waka Murray woman from Queensland. Leah describes herself as a truth
teller, and she's fearless when it comes to sharing her story and giving voice to women who
didn't have one. You must see her film, The Drover's Wife, the legend of Molly Johnson.
She's reshaped Henry Lawson's iconic short story to be told from the perspective of an
Indigenous woman. It made me think, weep and want to do more. Leah Purcell, I am just such a
massive fan of yours. You are fierce, and you're unapologetic, and that just comes through
everything you do. And I've been busting to get you into the studio to talk with you.
Thank you for having me. It's a pleasure to be here. It's been on the list to do for a while
now, hasn't it? So we finally made it happen, 2023. What I think is extraordinary about you
is that you're an exceptional story teller, and you've been telling stories ever since you've
been in the spotlight. But what I found compelling is that you describe yourself though as a truth
teller. Yeah, look, I've been telling stories since I was a kid, really. That was one way I could get
through school was if I took control of the narrative, you know, and told my stories, although
some of the times the teacher said my imagination was far too wild and to go sit down. But I come
from a long line of storytellers. My mother was a storyteller. I've got aunties that are amazing
storytellers. It's part of my culture to listen, to receive, to earn your storytelling talents.
You know, when I go home, and that's home to Mergen, that's the Bush-Sherberg Aboriginal
community, I sit very quiet because that's where all the storytellers are. And they all say,
watch her, she's sitting quiet, she'll turn it into a movie. And I go, no, I'm learning,
I'm learning. So it's part of who I am. But I guess the truth telling came with the stories
that I was receiving at those times. I was a young girl growing up in the bush. And that was part of
our cultural practice. A lot of our cultural practice was gone, you know, taken away from us.
My mother wasn't allowed to speak language or practice culture. My grandmother was considered
subhuman on her papers from the government. She was part of the Stolen Generations. So we didn't
have that opportunity to be wrapped in culture and give us that foundation. So stories, what we do
have is our stories. No one can take that away from us. So those stories were passed down.
And they were just part of a cultural lesson. They were part of family history. They were for fun.
They were times that were very sad, that would make you listen and contemplate and think.
And then of course, in this day and age, it is about our Australian history that hasn't been
told. And as part of that understanding that I want to bring through my artwork, I want to be
that truth teller. So when I tell the truth in my stories, that's my mother's stories, that's my
grandmother's stories, that's all the mothers before them. And I guess I sort of say to deny
me those stories tells me I don't exist, but I do. And my grandmother exists for the pain that
she went through as being part of the Stolen Generations. My mother was the lost generation
where they were forbidden, forbidden. They would be punished to practice culture, to be Aboriginal
and to be proud of that. But yet they were demanded to assimilate and cross into white society,
but they weren't invited. They weren't still allowed to be who they were. So I think through
my art and my opportunity, where I do have a voice, my mother never had a voice, my grandmother
never had a voice and the mothers before them. And so it would be a crime if I didn't have and
use this opportunity to use my voice and to be that truth teller, because their truths happened.
They existed. Those things happened and now it's about understanding that and then moving
forward so we don't repeat those actions. And that's why I proudly wear the title of truth teller.
And as you said before, I'm a fierce bitch and I'll walk forward and I'll roll over anybody.
And that is you though. You are a force of nature because you've said you basically just
knock doors off hinges to make things happen. You just walk through.
And I think that was because I saw the restraint in my mother. I saw the restraint in my
grandmother, not only because she had no voice and was seriously in the times when she moved
to the Aboriginal settlement of Cherbourg, people said those blacks were subhuman.
And then my mother, who was a pride for woman, she was a great singer. She could dance,
she could tell a joke. So the fierceness that I have is what they couldn't portray. But at home,
they would instil that you are somebody. You hold your head up high. Yet I would see my mother when
she'd approach certain people and she would drop this demeanour. Her head would drop and she
wouldn't look at people. And I'd always wonder why do you do that with that certain person,
yet you're this other blossoming flowering crazy lady that knew how to have a good time.
But I didn't know that she was battling two worlds. So I saw the fierceness in her privately
and the determination in her. She raised seven children. My white dad was married to another
woman and they had a family. So my mother was, I don't know, the sidekick. He had six children to
her. I was the youngest. She raised two nephews. There was two white boys in the town that would
never go home. She raised them. She looked after her crippled mother for 27 years, then her father,
and then she died from bowel cancer. You know, when her life was just kicking in at 60, far too
young. So I used that fierceness and that determination that I know that little woman,
she was four foot nothing. I saw her take on men and calmed wild beasts, you know. And she always
told me life's not going to be easy. So the choices you make, you can either make it harder
for yourself or you can make it a little bit easier. But don't expect that you're going to
get anything. Always work on the theory. You come from nothing. You got nothing. It's easier to go
back to that. I have no fear of failure because when you come from nothing, it's all right. I can
go back and live on $2 and, you know, share in a bed or whatever. So it's about that determination
to succeed and whatever that is, whether I make a million dollars, 10 million, or whether I never
get there, but it's about doing and being happy in the life that I've chosen to live and following
a dream. Very fortunate to be able to do that and be passionate about that and just working
your butt off to get it just on a roll. I've been doing it for 31 years now and I'm just
on a roll. You know, it's crazy. And what a roll it is and has been. So you listen to your mum,
but there were some things that you didn't listen to your mum about. What makes me laugh is that what
as a four-year-old, were you telling your mum you wanted to be Doris Day? Yes, yes. In Morgan,
we only had two channels. So it was the ABC and something else. Of course, there'd be the Sunday
matinees at 2pm. And we sit down and I love my Doris Day, Liza Minnelli, Barbara Streisand,
and watching the cowboy and Indians movies, the Westerns. And I just fell in love with Doris Day.
She was a strong woman. She could sing, she could dance, she could act. And, you know, she was tough,
yet she was feminine. And I just said I wanted to be like her. And my mum said, look, you're black,
you're from the bush, you're a woman. I don't think that's going to happen. Think about being
a nurse or working at the meatworks. And I went, oh, okay. But I just, you know, I packed that
little dream away and I kept it, you know, at the back of my mind. But I saw my family performing.
So, you know, when we'd have a barbecue, there'd be just so many people and lots of kids. And I'd
put on productions. So I sort of was living my dream through them. Yeah, I just kept that little
dream alive in my back pocket. You know, when the time came, when I had to get out of Morgan,
I wasn't in a very good way and I just had my daughter. So I was pregnant at 17. I turned 18
in August. My daughter was born in September. My mother died in October and I was in an abusive
relationship. And I was nudging alcohol at the time because I saw my mum sort of dullen her pain
through that. And I just sort of said, this isn't me. I don't like where it was taking me.
There was suicidal thoughts and I saw myself reflection in a mirror, a mirror that I used
to play in as a kid. I'd sing, I'd dance. I'd dance with Doris Day and Whitney Houston and Janet
Jackson as we got a little bit older. But I saw myself in that and this little voice came from
that back pocket and said, didn't you want to act? And I said, yeah, I did. But I live in Morgan and
I have a kid. How the hell do I do that? So how in the hell did you do that as a 19-year-old
escaping, as you say, an abusive relationship? I mean, you literally climbed out the window
of your house, didn't you? Yeah. Yeah. I was too frightened to walk past the room. So I threw a
lot of the bags out and got my daughter out. Now there was one more bag that I left and there was
someone sleeping in another room and I tapped on the window and I said, I need the bag in the
hallway. And I did, you know, through the window and I left. I had to do it. You know, my mother
wasn't there anymore. I didn't want this lifestyle because I grew up in pubs. I grew up around,
there was pub violence. You know, I probably spent more times in pubs when I was underage than what
I don't. I don't even have a local now. You know, like I just, I just don't go there. I just spent
too much time there and I didn't want that for my daughter. So I literally jumped in my car and then
I went to stay with my sister for a minute. Then I went down to an auntie in Marimbula for about
three months to get myself together, Aunty Faye. And she was great because she was like a surrogate
mum, a grandmother for my little girl because that's my mum's youngest sister. And it was nice to
have someone to just lighten that load because no matter what age you are, parenting, mothering is
full on. And it was nice to have that and it gave me an opportunity to find myself. And then I went
back to Brisbane and I ran into an old preschool mate who rung me out of the blue. I said,
how did you know I was here? She said, my mum saw your sister up the street in Mergen. She said,
you were in Brisbane. You were looking for somewhere to stay. She said, I'm about to find
an apartment. If I find one, will you come and stay? And I went, yeah, sure. Think in two weeks.
She rung me the next day and said, got it. And I said, I guess fate stepped in and I'm not going
home. And she was doing an acting course. And I went, oh, can I do your course when you finish?
And she said, well, I don't own it. Of course you can do it. And I sort of, that was the only sort
of training I sort of did. I was the first ever to get an excellent at the school. I don't know
how excellent that was to have that excellent. But anyway, it made me feel good. Yeah. But it
made me feel good. And I went, I can do this. This is how I can become an actor. Once again,
I think fate stepped in and I met my partner, Bane Stewart. We've been together now 31 years.
And he was the first person outside the family. And as well as that little course that when you're
actually really good. Haven't you described Bane as a gift from your ancestors? Yeah, I actually
dreamt him. I dreamt of him for about six months before or a year nearly before I met him. And it
was his hair and yeah. And there was these five children with us, but they're all different shades
of colour. And because he helped raise his sister, his sister's two sons, his daughter
and my daughter. So there was the five kids. And then one day when we were started to go out,
it was a blind date. My cousin worked for his cousin and long story, black fella grapevine going
around. But I looked at him side on one day and I went, oh, it's you. And he went, what do you mean?
I said, I actually dreamt you a year out, but it was beautiful because as I said, he was that
outside person that said, you're actually talented, Leah. You know, he went for a jog. We were so into
our fitness in those days. He ran a martial arts gym, the first indigenous owned martial arts.
He went for a jog, saw a yellow piece of paper in the gutter, flipped it over. And it was for
a Murray music workshop. And I said, look, I know half of those mob, they'll probably be my uncles.
And I know where they carry on. He said, but you should go. Cause I was singing in his share. And
I said, look, you don't have to kid me up. I'm sleeping with you already. I know I gotta, you
know, thanks for the compliment. But he said, no, I'm actually serious. So I went along and it was
the best thing I could do. Cause yeah, they were all my uncles, all my cousins, but it was ran
professionally. And I didn't feel that I was stupid when I made mistakes. So it was a safe space.
So it wasn't as if say you were walking into a room or an institution with people judging you.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Saying you're not enough. Or a school. I would never, if someone said,
go study. I said, not in your life. They had to, you know, chain me to a chair when I was at school
in Mergen. I said, no, I don't, I couldn't sit in an institution, but because they were black
fellows, cause they were my mob, I felt really empowered. What I'd really like to do is to go
back to Mergen, go back to that little girl. You were talking about the time that you spent
in pubs with your mum. And was it right that you had your first drink when you were nine?
Yeah, probably even younger, just to get home. I'd knock them back. So you finished.
She'd go, how did that happen? I said, yeah, I don't know. You drunk it. A lot of cigarettes,
five of them back. And it was just, it's just so I could get her home because being the youngest
of seven, and there's a fair age between me and the youngest of the first six. So I sort of grew
up like an only child cause they were all, you know, teenagers and adults and doing their own
families and their own things and some living away. So my responsibility to her was to look after
her. You know, and I saw her pain. I understood from a very young age what she was doing and why
she drank and why she would lose herself in that because of her pain of her relationship. She had
a man she couldn't love, although she had six kids to him. You know, he had a family and moved
away. So I understood why she drowned in the brown bottle. So I did not judge her. I was just there
for her. That's a big responsibility though. How can you as a little girl not be angry or resentful
then as you become a teenager? Oh, that no, absolutely. When I was 14, I was very resentful,
but I didn't, I couldn't articulate it, but I was angry. I was angry at 14. Oh yeah. I could have
been a bad girl or a good girl. A little bit crazy there for a little while, but it was a teacher
that sort of pulled me back in line. But no, absolutely. And it's stuff that you carry
later because then you learn through the habits to abuse alcohol, you know, and then,
and you come back and you go, that doesn't feel right. You know, and you've got to learn
if you're going to participate in that, how to drink for the pleasure, not to drown,
you know, and to dullen as a lot of people do. But oh yeah, there was resentment there. There was
time I was so tired. I'd go to school and tell the teacher, I've got to go to the sick room. I just
went to bed four hours ago because I put my mum to bed. And because she had me at 42 and in those
days, you know, that was old. Of course it's not now when you're, you know, living in this time.
And I was worried about if she died, then who would understand me? People could look after me,
but who would understand me? We had a little understanding and I would sit up and watch her
until about four o'clock. And then her breathing would be normal because she'd of course have the
drunk snore and her breathing would be normal. And then I could go to sleep. But then of course,
you're up at eight o'clock trying to get to school, you know. And there was times where I
was making adult decisions as a 10 year old because my grandmother was there. She was crippled with
arthritis and Parkinson's disease. And it was my job to go home at five o'clock, cook her fried eggs.
I'd jump up on the table to flip and then I'd have to get back to the pub before the lights
turned on. But it was almost like everyone was waiting for me and I'd get dressed up. I'd go
home and put my little shoes on. And then I'd come back to the pub and everyone would cheer.
Leah's back. And then the party would begin. It was like they were just waiting,
you know. And so you felt that that was a community. But then when you got to be the child
in school and I go, don't tell me what to do, lady, because I've just put my mother to bed.
I had to put my grandmother on the commode and cook her a meal. If I'm telling you I'm tired,
I'll be back after recess. And that homework, you might get it at the end of the week. If you don't,
don't sweat on it. Because I just, I had to be forward because that was my life, you know,
of coming forward. And possibly because I had a mouth on me, I may have saved myself,
you know, if there was vulnerable times with people, because I could tell you to get effed.
Pretty good, actually. And where did that come from? From your mum? From your grandmother?
Yeah, absolutely. My mother and grandmother, they were still strong women in their own right.
But life just beat my mum a little bit, you know, beat her. She fought it. And she tried to make the
best of the situation that she could. You know, she's my mother, she's my father, she's my hero.
You know, she gave everything, you know, and got very little back. Where a time when she was 60,
where she should have got her life, because I had just turned, I must have been about,
yeah, I was 18. So I was sort of doing my own thing. Yes, a young mum in not a very good
relationship. But, you know, that was her time to live. And she was taken by bowel cancer. So I feel,
you know, that she was cheated in a little bit. But hey, the good die young. So maybe she's
out there in the dream and, you know, doing what she loves best and, you know, being with family.
But she was always a good laugh. And she was also, people trusted her. My mother was doing
reconciliation before the word became fashionable. There was always big blackfellas and whitefellas
at our home, if there was a party. And she was allowed to go into the bar, into the whites only
area because she worked for the publican. But then she'd bring mob in and they'd go with
Aunty Flo. And Aunty Flo just ruled the roost. Mrs. P or Aunty Flo was what they'd call her.
Everyone had a lot of respect for my mum. You know, when she drunk, she was a binge drinker.
But, you know, as they say, anyone's an alcoholic that relies on alcohol to stimulate emotion
of some form. But I understood why. And I was there to protect her. I was a terrier when it came
to my mother. You know, walk her home, put her to bed, make sure she was right. You know,
Jim Reeves at four in the morning, I go, Mum, I've got to get up soon. One more. On the record,
play her around, it would go. But I wouldn't change any of that because it's made me the
woman I am today. It's made me very appreciative of what I didn't have and now what I have.
Gives you an opportunity to be passionate, to be determined. Life, you know, that's what I study
people, life's not meant to be easy. If you think that, I don't know what movie you watched or what
planet you think you are. If you look at life being hard and then all the hardships doesn't
seem too hard. And when you get rewarded with goodness, it's amazing. So, you know, that's my
motto anyway. And your mum also gave you a story that drove his wife that has been instrumental
to you and to your career. And that was a book she read when you were five or something.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, when I was five. And she read it to me and would recite it to me.
And I think the reason I connected to it, it was the first time I used my imagination and I put
myself in that story so that maybe the actor was coming out in me. Because I'd stop her and say
the last line and the last line is, Ma, I won't never go a-drovin'. So I jump up in bed, it'd be
midnight, she'd go to sleep. I said, oh, you want to sleep early, eh? Because you're a bad sleeper,
weren't you? Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I said, well, it's my night to party now. And I said,
tell me the story. And I'd stop her and I'd get up and I go, Ma, I would never go a-drovin'.
And you know, I probably wouldn't have went a-drovin' if she didn't die. Because I think if
she had lived, I'd still be there. I would not be here. Because it was my duty to look after her.
That's how I felt. So her death to me was a gift to set me free. And otherwise, I would still be
in Morgan looking after her today if she was still alive. So that's how I look at that. I look at
that as my gift that set me free. Because when she died, I said, I don't have to be here. You know,
her house is just a place. She lives in my mind. She lives in my heart. She lives in my spirit
because of the stories that she told me. And Drover's wife was one of them. And when I left,
that jumped out the window, got me bags. I pushed the car down the drive because I didn't want to
start it up, kick-started it, and off I went. But I nearly forgot that book. And I had to go back
in for that as well. And that was the one thing, that book, I don't know why I took it, because at
that time I was just running for my life. And I was wondering where a full tank of petrol and
whatever money I had in my back pocket was going to get me. I wasn't going, one day I'm going to
make a movie out of this. And it was just something that I had. I knew I was five because on the spare
pages I wrote Dick, Dora, Nip and Fluff. And that was from your grade one readers. So I knew that I
was five years old and just kept it with me. So it was with me for about, well, when I started
putting pen to paper, it was over 42 years of having that idea. Because then, of course,
when I got into the industry and you go, you know, going through things, I thought, oh,
there's that book. So I put it on the shelf to do something with. 2006, I was shooting
Jinderbine with Ray Lawrence up in the snowy mountains. And me and Bane would go for a drive
and have a look around. And I fell in love with the landscape. And I said, we don't utilise this
enough in our films or on TV. And it was beautiful. And we went up to Mount Kosciusko,
walked right up to the top. And I literally just started yelling out, oh, I'm coming back.
I think I'm going to do something. I think it's going to be the drover's wife. And I'm going to
be in it, in it, in it, in it, echoed around the mountain ranges. So that was 2006, cut to 2019.
And literally on the opposite range, I'm singing out action and cut, you know. So, but I did,
I put it out there to the universe. And, you know, slowly but surely, you know, opportunities came
because I was a director in a writer's workshop. And I got frustrated with the writers because they
kept regurgitating the same stuff. And I go, Leah, don't get frustrated. Maybe it's time
for you to sit down and write your next project. And that's when I went home. It was a Friday night
and I looked at my shelf and that book was just sticking out a little bit further.
That red cover was, the front had fallen off at this stage. And I went, it's time. And I
plucked it off the shelf, put it beside me. And I said to Bane, I'm going to start writing something,
leave me alone. And I said, I'm not going to reread it. I just held it up and I'm just going
to see, remember what my mother told me. And away I went seven days. And it is the most
beautiful film. The landscape, as you say, when you film Jindabyne, I mean, it's extraordinary the
way you've brought that landscape to life. I wept watching it. There's so much that is in there.
And for you to bring it to life in that way, I just think is phenomenal.
Thank you. I worked so hard. I had four or five hats on. Other people had sent me scripts,
like I've had a lot of scripts. Can you direct this? This can be your first film. They're giving
you the sell. And I went, no, it's got to be something that I know. It's got to be something
that I'm passionate about. And Drova's wife was it. I believe my mother gifted me that all those
years ago. And because I just so knew it. And then when I sat down to write from my mother's
perspective and brought the stories forward, then, and then I went back and reread it and
put the Henry and then I went, oh, okay, I can add that and took a bit more from Henry. But then I
went, ah, it's not satisfying me. Where's the mongrel in it? Where's the Leah Purcell? And Bane
said, well, then why don't you look at us as blackfellas? Where's our story through that?
Because Henry only touched it and they were bad blacks and all of that. And I went, oh, yeah.
And that's when the truth telling, because he said as blackfellas, if we can't tell our truths,
then who can? And if we've got an opportunity to put this on the main stage or on a commercial
screen, then that's where we're going to make a difference. And then I went and wrote for another
three days without coming up for air, just a bit of water and put my great grandfather's story
through it. Thought about my grandmother, like the piece of paper for those who have seen it,
the piece of paper that goes into the fire. That's my grandmother's story.
Octaroons is what I would call Molly Johnson's children. Just a touch of the tar brush,
but enough. For their protection, children's removal is authorised.
You have been very good to me and my children over the years. And for that, I am very grateful.
But damn you to hell for thinking you were what's best for my children.
I could take frames and write you a whole nother film from out of it. It's so layered. I know
every word behind everything that's said, where I got the inspiration for stuff.
That's what I try to tell the young people that I'm mentoring. If you're going to do something,
I said, and you might only get one chance at doing it. I might never make another film.
I may never, because that's the nature of this industry. I said, so you go hard, you go passionate
and you go with something that's going to make a difference. And I did and I do it again in a
heartbeat. I loved every stressful moment. I loved every beautiful moment. I loved every
creative moment that we found something that we didn't realise was there or the potential
of it growing, giving the other actors an opportunity to voice their interests or their
passion about the character and taking it to another level. And then to hear other actors
say your words. You know, like when Jessica de Gaulle spoke Louisa's words,
I said, shit, she just made me sound so smart.
Well, speaking of those words, there was a part that really, really made me weep towards the end
where that character says, can I hear you? I was trying to give a voice to an issue that's been
kept silent for far too long, giving women the voice. I could only hear you. Point made.
Can I hear you, Molly? Yes. And that to me, summed up so much of it that we needed to hear your
voice and your story, your character's story. That meant so much to me. And why I wept was that I
thought I wish there was more, I suppose as a white woman, that I could do to make a difference
because there's so much pain in that. And I'm just watching it. I haven't lived it. It's not my family,
but I see that and I feel the injustice. Yeah. Well, there was two things with that
character of Louisa. I wanted her to represent the white women that have helped me on my journey,
to give that respect back. I wanted to showcase that there are women out there,
non-Indigenous, that have got the right heart and they're trying. And I think it's about having a go
and might be fumbling and might say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, but at least there's
an attempt. And I think that's what we have to try for. And then we'll try for perfection as we all
work together and work through it. And I wanted to showcase that with her. And yes, it's about
non-Indigenous women listening to Indigenous women. It's also just about women listening to women.
And it's also about the issue of domestic violence. You've got to listen to the women or the women,
you know, that are on that, at the end of the abuse, you know, to listen, to give them the space
to feel safe, to say they need help, they need something. And that's what that role was for,
you know, the three or four different variations. But it's about listening and letting those people
have the voice, not coming in and think you're going to correct it. I think the first thing
anyone can do with Indigenous issues, and we still haven't done it in this country, is to listen,
just listen. There's people out there that know how we can turn corners. And it's got to start
at the top. There's a grassroots level of people in this country that do want to listen. It's got
to start at the top with the government listening. And that's where I think we need the voice.
The voice in parliament is a start. Then we can look at sovereignty and treaties and that. But
you've got to trust. We've got phenomenal people in there now. We've got phenomenal young people
coming up that are so smart, that are working on legislations and, you know, looking at the
constitution and let them lead and let there be a voice, because for the past 200 plus years,
it's not working. And I'm even saying that to my own mob, because there's people that don't think
that it's going to work. You've got to start somewhere. You've got to try something,
because the past history has shown it hasn't worked. And I think you've got to start at the top.
Because I'm so sorry about the past. I am. Thank you. It's something that, you know,
when I see your extraordinary film, it reminds me again of how terrible what we have done
to your people is, but also what we need to do to make amends.
Yeah. Yeah. No, it's a shocking, shocking history that we have. But I think that we need to
hear it. We need to listen to it. And as I said before, so we don't make the same mistakes.
And Australia can be leading the way in how we deal with Indigenous peoples from around the
world. We can make those changes and we can empower and make a difference, because there's
still a lot of pain out there, you know, but I think the self-governing of our own mob with
us in power can make a change and we can help that. I think what it's got to be,
it's non-Indigenous people have to talk to your people in power and make them, because they're
not listening to a Black voice, but as anything, you know, white on white should talk about it.
Black on Black needs to talk about it. The ones that can come together and bridge both worlds to
share in what knowledge we receive are the ones that are going to make the change, you know.
They call them the white wolf in a Native American mob where they walk in two worlds.
They can speak the language of both. They walk in two worlds and they're the front runners.
And I think, you know, we need high people in high positions of white fellows talking to
the white fellows. And that's when change is going to come in our mob to look after our mob.
And then we come together. You're an activist, you're a truth teller. Do you ever get weary of
that? Do you ever think, I don't want to do this anymore? No, no, because that's what I'm here to
do. You know, life's short and you've got to do all you can. So no, I'm not actually, oh,
you're getting energised by it. Just sitting here now. You know, I was tired when I walked in,
I'm pumped, ready to go and do some weights. But you know, no, no, it's empowering. You know,
I live with hope for change. It's empowering. And I try to do little obscure things. Next month,
I go up and I'm talking at a prison with some young women. You know, I want to empower them.
I want to give back. It makes me feel good about where I am in my life. And if I can shine
a little bit of light on someone to give them faith and hope and that they can do it,
I think it's important to do. I believe I'm here to walk in the two worlds. I'm here to share with
my art. I mean, it's bigger than me. I don't do this for me. The day I do, I don't know what
it'll be like, what that feels like. But it's for a purpose and it's bigger than me. And I'm here,
I'm the conduit, I'm the vessel. And I'm just, yeah, I'm here to give. And you're brave because
for you, you don't fear fear, do you? I don't fear it. But in saying that, yes, I'm brave,
but yet I can be terribly scared. I don't let it defeat me. I think you've got to have fear.
But it's how you let fear rule you, R-U-L-E, rule. And I don't let it. I think you have to feel it
because you've got to know you're alive. You've got to go, shit, this is scary. It also tells you
to get away. It helps you, you know, flight or fight. But I do like a good, no, no, no.
Well, I tell you, some of those scenes in The Drover's Wife, you did those stunts and you've
done stunts in Wentworth as well. You are fearsome. That's from the boxing, I guess. We come from a
boxing family. My father was a boxing trainer. So I jumped in the ring when I was about five.
My dad said to me, you got the best technique out of all the boys. If only you were a boy,
you'd be an Australian champ. And then when I was about maybe seven, could be nine,
the nephew that went on to almost, he made it to the Barcelona games, but pulled out. I got in the
ring with him and we were sparring. And then I seen my father, because I was watching him watching,
watching my nephew, and I'm going, what's going on here? And I seen the old man just giving him
a nod and bang, he planted me fair on the nose. I hit the canvas and the old man said,
do you want to box anymore? And I went, no. And in those days they didn't have girls doing that.
But I became the best spit bucket girl. So I'd follow them around when they do all the
tournaments and I would hold the buckets. My reflex is I catch things falling off shelves.
I just go like that because I had to be quick. Because the boys didn't aim, they just spat. So
you had to catch it. But I was part of that world. And then because of the training and then I picked
up with Bane being a martial artist. So we had that in common. It's a great sport to get fit.
It's a great way to get rid of, you know, hatred, anger, frustration.
Because he used to represent boxers and kickboxers, but you were the toughest one of them all.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I'd get in there, mate, he had Australian champs and like they were big
boys and they would just give it to me. I was all padded up because I'd hold the warrior pads. But
mate, they didn't pull anything back. And I gave it back to him just as good as I got.
But it was just, I like sport. I'm sport mad. I like to feel the pain in your body. I don't know,
it's satisfying. After it, I don't know, maybe I'm weird. It's empowering too, you know,
when you're a woman like at the gym. I also held self-defence classes for the ladies that came in.
And man, you know, there was these quiet and timid by the end of their six weeks program,
they were getting in with knees and elbows and feeling confident and even looking the part of
strength deters people from coming at you, you know. I said, it's a bluff really. But I don't know,
I just got enjoyment out of seeing how that empowers people and how good you feel and feeling
strong. And my mother said, rely on no one. So, you know, if you can do it, do it all.
But I love doing the stunts. I'm 52 now. I've got to stop. I've got to stop it. It's too hard.
No, don't stop it. You keep being you. What I want to ask you finally is,
when you look in the mirror now, what do you see?
Someone who believes in herself finally. Believe in my grey hair, that there's wisdom there.
There's experience there. I kind of like myself. You know, it's taken a long, long time.
But that kid to become this woman, she's had a go and she's doing all right. And she's a good
person, you know, and that's what's important. I like her now. Well, I love you.
You're extraordinary, Leah. Thank you so much for sharing some of your story with us.
Thank you, Jessica. The warmth that just radiated from her when we sat here
together in the studio. She invigorated me. She makes me think. And I am going to do more.
As she said, we all have a role to play. We can't just put our hands up and say,
it's all too hard. There is something that we can do. And I thank you, Leah, for making me think.
And if you're listening to this from Queensland, Leah is going to be directing Breaking the Castle
this year at QPAC. Now that is Queensland's performing arts centre. And we've put a link
in the show notes for tickets and info. And for more big conversations like this,
follow the Jessrow Big Talk Show podcast. It means you will never miss an episode. And I reckon
there's somebody in your life that you would like to share this conversation with. So go on.
Nothing's stopping you. Share it with them. And if you enjoyed this episode with Leah,
I reckon you'll enjoy my chat with Mitch Tambo. When you step out and you embrace all of who you
are, it's not all going to be roses. There's going to be haters. That's just the walk of life. But
no one can prepare you for that. And when you hit that, it's just, you've got to have a great
support network. It doesn't have to be massive, but just a support network of people that you
can draw on and feel okay. The Jessrow Big Talk Show was presented by me, Jessrow, executive
producer, Nick McClure, audio producer, Nicky Sitch, supervising producer, Sam Kavanagh.
Until next time, remember to live big. Life is just too crazy and glorious
to waste time on the stuff that doesn't matter. Listener.