She’s written two books, launched a progressive media firm and plans to dethrone the prime minister – all before she turns 30. What is she about?
Hannah Ferguson has just left the home of an older couple who disagree that she should run for parliament when I meet her at the Lewisham West light rail stop on the Greenway in Sydney’s inner-west. It is a perfect sunny winter afternoon and we are in the geographical centre of Grayndler, the electorate she wants to take from the prime minister, Anthony Albanese.
The couple emailed Ferguson after she announced her plans to run, declaring, she says, that they liked her but didn’t agree with her tilt for parliament. She tells me she asked to sit down with them and explain herself, and believes they’ve come around to the idea of her running – and might even support her.
“A lot of people that I’ve been meeting with, they say ‘I’m so confused by you meeting me’, and I’m like, why are we at this stage of politics where people are confused that I want to meet, sit down and have a cup of tea with them?” It has been predominantly Labor voters reaching out, she says, those who are “fed up and feel a bit politically homeless”.
“Politicians feel very far removed, I think, for most people.”
Ferguson, 28, has become a national media and political figure, independent of traditional news outlets and political parties. She founded progressive social media outfit Cheek Media – which now reaches hundreds of thousands of followers across several media platforms – at just 22, and published two books in two years before she turned 26. The popular Gen-Z commentator now sees herself as part of a new generation of independents challenging left-wing seats. Her run was officially announced on social media just a few weeks ago, as she began organising town hall meetings with locals to unofficially start her campaign. Her first, with more than 130 people, had sold out within an hour.
Ferguson wears a plain white tee and a pair of jeans for the interview. Wardrobe options are somewhat “impossible”, she laments. A suit, she says, makes her look too much like a “teal” – a group she is trying to separate herself from (she has ruled out accepting money from Climate 200). She just wants to look like a “normal person”.
Anthony Albanese has held the seat of Grayndler, a progressive and highly educated electorate, since before Ferguson was born and has for the last few elections won on first preferences alone. The Greens generally come a distant second, claiming about 20 to 22% of the primary vote. Last year, the high-profile Greens candidate Hannah Thomas secured just over 25%, but will not run for the seat again. It’s going to be an uphill battle, to say the least.
Ferguson looks me dead in the eye and says she believes she can win the seat from the prime minister.
“Oh I can win. I would not do something unless I was going to do it fully,” she says without hesitation.
“Albo is chasing One Nation to the bottom right now so … wouldn’t the best response we can have be to encourage more people to stand up and shift the dialogue. Shouldn’t we be asking politicians to fight to retain that privilege of representing a community?”
As we walk, there’s the cacophony of light rails, trains, and cars moving around us and the roar of planes flying closely above – it’s quintessential inner-west. We keep walking to get away from the noise of the tracks.
At six foot two, it’s not hard to notice Ferguson on the path. She stands tall, doesn’t slouch but leans in a little to listen to my questions. There’s recognition from a few passersby. Two separate women, one riding and one walking her dog do a double take, one yells out “Oh my God, I love you!”, the other, “you’re doing great sweetie!” as they go past. Ferguson, warm and friendly, shouts back “I love you too!” and “thank you!”, and says the interaction isn’t uncommon.
Ferguson says she is an open book, and she means it. “Once you get to the vibrator selling, what is there left?” she laughs. She doesn’t seem afraid to post emotionally raw videos of herself on social media, and shared her experience of having an abortion in the Guardian in 2024.
“There’s a challenge for me in pursuing a political campaign because I will have to change how open I can be about my life,” she says. “That’s also changed over the last couple of years where I used to be so open, like it was ridiculous, I thought not telling someone something was almost like lying, whereas it’s actually just having a boundary.”
