Lidia Thorpe (Victoria, Independent) Share this | Hansard source

This speech was written by an Aboriginal person who advocates for our kids in out-of-home care. It's truth-telling of the devastating experience of a young Aboriginal girl currently residing in residential care in Victoria:

Imagine living in a house where the furniture is bolted to the floor and the TV is locked up. You live there alone. The house is staffed 24/7, but the youth workers usually do 8-12-hour shifts. They spend time watching you on cameras, ready to lock themselves in the office if you get upset. You're told this is your home, but it's nothing like the one you were taken from.

You can't have privacy. Even your bedroom, the only space that feels like yours, isn't really safe. Workers can come in whenever they want, read your poetry, your journals, your pain.

You can't cook, use glass, or use cutlery. You are considered dangerous and out of control, you're told you're high-risk but it's never explained what this means. You feel so alone—no friends; denied connection to culture and family.

You were twelve when you were removed, placed straight into residential care. You had been self-harming, struggling with your mental health, and didn't know how to express what you were feeling. You needed help, your mum was doing her best to support you, but at the time, it wasn't enough. She asked the system for help; she didn't get it.

Instead, you got taken away. You haven't been to school since Year 6. You wanted to, but there was never a stable placement. Moved from town to town, house to house.

You were reminded daily that you were the problem, too challenging, too broken, too hard.

In one placement, you met older girls who introduced you to drugs and to men who promised attention in exchange for photos, gifts, your body. You were exploited, assaulted, and ignored. You told workers, child protection, and even the police, but nothing changed, and no one was caught.

Sometimes, you get exploited up to 10 times a day; sometimes these men hit you, steal from you, and one even pushed you down the stairs, breaking your leg. You feel worthless, and like this is the closest to love you will ever get.

You have overdosed more times than you can count and your mental health gets worse every day, but you don't know how to address it, so your drug use gets worse—you feel so alone and sometimes think about taking your own life, because it seems like the only way out.

The system that was meant to protect you became the place where harm continued, hidden behind paperwork and policies.

This isn't an isolated story; it's one of many.

In 2016 the Commission for Children and Young People identified that child sexual exploitation in residential care isn't rare; it's happening everywhere. It's happening to the very children the state has promised to protect. It's happening in places that are state run and state funded, where traumatised children are placed because they need protecting and safe alternatives to their family's home. There are no Aboriginal-specific sexual assault services in this country, and currently two services in Victoria provide direct services to victims of child sexual exploitation. One is grossly underfunded, and one is not suitable for young people in residential care.

According to the Yoorrook Justice Commission, in 2023 there were 2,867 Aboriginal children in out-of-home care in Victoria. They are 21.7 times more likely to be placed in care than non-Aboriginal children. At the Aboriginal Children's Forum this year, we heard that 146 Aboriginal children are currenting living in residential care. This is just Victoria. These numbers tell us the system is broken. Residential care has become the default, not the last resort. These children are denied culture, education, stability and hope. They are growing up without the basic human rights every child deserves. Governments are pouring millions into a model that harms the very children it claims to help. We cannot afford to ignore this any longer. How many more children must be exploited in state care before children matter?