- Ben Brooksby, 32, from Penola, SA, is the founder of The Naked Farmer
- Over the years, he’s also created calendars featuring farmers who are willing to bare all
- The Naked Farmer aims to raise awareness on mental health
Here he shares his story in his own words.
Running through the wheat paddock in just my gumboots, I felt the tickle of plants as they brushed up against my bare skin.
‘Smile!’ my boyfriend Mason instructed as he snapped a photo.
It was November 2021 and, aged 28, I wasn’t getting my gear off just for fun – it was all part of my goal to raise awareness of mental health.
Growing up on a 5000-acre crop and sheep farm in St Helens Plains, Victoria, I had a wonderful early childhood, alongside my two older siblings.
But when I was six, our parents announced they were getting divorced.
I was heartbroken.
‘I kept my struggles to myself.’
Splitting our time between the farm and Mum’s new place, half an hour’s drive away, really took a toll on me, and as a teen I developed anxiety, experiencing frequent panic attacks.
Soon, everyday tasks such as having a shower or making a phone call became overwhelming. And social gatherings were totally out of the question.
I just want to stay in my room forever, I thought, depressed.
But I kept my struggles to myself, not wanting to burden my friends or family.
In August 2015, when I was 22, I hit rock bottom when my family’s farmhouse burned down, caused by sparks from a faulty hot water heater.
No-one was injured, but our home, and all of our belongings, were gone.
Thankfully, we didn’t lose any crops, sheep or farm equipment.
I moved in with my grandparents close by, and the community rallied around us, raising funds and donating furniture, linen and essentials.
I was so grateful.
During the harvest period in December 2016, I was with my friend Emma in my paddock, when she dared me to strip naked and jump inside a truck filled with lentils due to be planted the following year.
‘Sure!’ I laughed, surprised by my own bravery.
‘Being bare-skinned felt freeing.’
Ditching my clothes, I dived in, covering my privates with the legumes as Emma snapped her camera.
Despite being so far out of my comfort zone, being bare-skinned felt freeing.
Maybe this could a good way to educate people about life on the farm and where their food comes from, I thought.
So in May 2017 I set up @TheNakedFarmer on Facebook and Instagram, sharing the cheeky snap and a few others Emma had taken.
But rather than attracting the notice of city folk like I’d hoped, I was getting attention from other farmers.
I love what you’re doing, many commented.
Incredibly, they began sending snaps of themselves in the buff, censoring their bits with clever props such as watering cans, cowboy hats, and sheep’s wool.
With their permission, I began re-sharing their pics on my page. Within a week, I’d amassed 1000 followers.
As the numbers grew, I wanted to put my platform to good use. So I decided to put together a nude calendar to help raise awareness of farmers doing it tough, particularly those who struggled with their mental health, like me.
All the proceeds would be donated to the Royal Flying Doctor Service’s mental health programs.
After putting a call out on social media, I was blown away by the number of farmers willing to bare all for the cause.
In June 2018, Emma and I travelled to 13 properties across Oz, where we photographed 55 farmers.
‘It was such an emotional moment.’
‘If you’ve ever been affected by mental health, throw your hat up in the air!’ Emma said, snapping pics of farmers and their wives in WA.
Everyone looked around at each other, taken aback by how they were all going through something similar.
It was such an emotional moment.
Before long, the media caught wind of our project, and I was inundated with interview requests.
‘It takes guts to get your gear off, and it takes guts to talk about mental health,’ I told journalists.
I was gobsmacked when the calendars sold out within just a few weeks, raising over $17,000!
Just before the tour of WA, I’d met Mason, then 20, a cattle farmer in Penola, SA, who’d unrobed for a photo shoot. Falling in love, I decided to relocate there in 2019.
He was so supportive when in October 2020, I released my book The Naked Farmer, covering my own journey with mental health, and the stories of farmers we’d photographed too.
The following year, we tied the knot.
In April this year, we were overjoyed to welcome our daughter, Cleo, thanks to help from two special women – my sister, who donated her eggs, and Mason’s cousin Tricia who was our surrogate, supported by her partner Brodie.
‘You have no idea how much this means to us,’ I cried to them when I held Cleo for the first time.
Between raising our precious girl and farming duties, I don’t have as much time to put into the Naked Farmer as I once did. Our Instagram has been shut down, as the platform usually prohibits nudity in posts, but our Facebook page is going strong with 72,000 followers.
‘I couldn’t be prouder.’
When she’s old enough, I’ll tell Cleo about our mission, and how it’s important to speak up if she’s ever feeling down.
With his family, Mason and I are also in the works of starting an off-grid farm retreat, to help farmers unwind in a safe space.
I couldn’t be prouder of the work we’ve done to reduce the stigma around mental health.
Whether it’s your feelings or your bum, baring all is brave!
If you are struggling and need support, call Lifeline for free 24/7 on 13 11 14 (Aus) or 0800 543 354 (NZ).
