Everyone at CRS is very proud of Piume Kaneshan. Her family has been supported by CRS for 10 years. They were finally granted permanent residency after an agonising 13-year wait. Piume was just 8 when she came to Australia seeking safety with her mother and sister. At just 19 years old she made the decision to support the Women’s Action for Visa Equality walk from Melbourne to Canberra. During that walk, Piume found her voice and continues to advocate for fair treatment of refugees. This Palm Sunday she spoke at the Refugee Action Coalition rally for refugees in Canberra. Here is her speech, a moving call for justice for refugees. Please see her speech below:
Good afternoon, everyone,
I want to begin by acknowledging the Traditional Owners of the land on which we gather today and pay my deepest respects to their Elders past, present and emerging. This land was stolen, and it was never ceded.
Always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.
It truly fills my heart to see so many of you here today, standing together in support of refugees. Your presence means everything, not just to me, but to thousands of people still waiting for safety and certainty. This rally is more than a gathering. It is hope. It is solidarity. And for many refugees, it’s a reminder that they are not forgotten.
We have a responsibility, a moral obligation, to speak up and act against the injustice faced by refugees in this country. In detention centres both onshore and offshore, and even in the communities we live in, people are suffering in silence. Lives are being slowly broken apart.
Our refugee policy in Australia doesn’t just sit on paper. It has real, devastating consequences for real people, people who have already faced war, trauma and displacement. It affects them every single day.
My own family was caught in the grip of that policy.
In 2012, we fled the war in Sri Lanka. My mother, my sister and I came to Australia seeking asylum. We left behind my father and my brother. That decision was not easy. Imagine the courage it takes for a mother to flee her home, the only place she’s ever known, and take her two daughters across the world, not knowing what lies ahead. But she had to make that decision, because the alternative was worse.
I was just eight years old when we arrived. We had nothing, no possessions, no certainty, no stability. But we had hope.
Over time, we started building a life here. People in the community, people like many of you, welcomed us. You showed kindness and compassion when the government wouldn’t. My sister and I started school, made friends, and tried to fit in. We shared our food and culture, and yes, we even gave vegemite sandwiches a try.
But as I got older, things became harder.
Moving through school, then college, and eventually university, I was constantly reminded that I didn’t quite belong. I had to prove I deserved to be here. I had to get letters from refugee support organisations. I had to explain my situation again and again. Some days I felt like every other Aussie kid, laughing, learning, living. But on other days, I felt the weight of being “different.” A refugee. Someone who still had to prove their worth.
Thirteen years later, my family has given so much to the country we now call home.
My sister is studying to become a health professional.
My mum works as a childcare educator, nurturing the next generation.
And I’m studying a Bachelor of Pharmacy at the University of Canberra. We want to give back. We want to help heal others. We’ve worked hard. We’ve contributed. We’ve done everything this country asked of us and more.
Yet only half of my family can now call themselves former refugees. The other half and many others I know are still waiting. Waiting for permanent residency. Waiting to feel safe. Waiting to finally be able to say, “I belong here.”
That’s why I’m standing here today.
Not just to tell my story, but to speak for those who can’t or who are still too afraid to.
For the kids growing up just like I did, stuck in between, wondering if they really belong.
For the families who live in fear, who’ve waited years for a decision that never seems to come.
For the people who have given everything to this country, but still aren’t accepted as part of it.
The pain of that waiting that uncertainty is something I know too well. And I know how heavy it is. It stays with you every day. It affects how you see the world. It affects how you see yourself.
That’s why I speak up.
Because no one deserves to live like that. No one deserves to feel unsafe or unwanted especially not in a country that claims to value fairness and a “fair go” for all.
So, I’m asking you all of you to stand with us.
Stand up for those who are still waiting. Stand up for the children and families still caught in a system that dehumanises them. Stand up for the people who just want a chance a real chance to build a life in safety.
Together, we have the power to change things.
We’ve seen communities come together before and make a difference. We saw it in the Bilola community when people joined forces and spoke out, things started to shift. That shows what’s possible when we raise our voices, when we demand better.
We can hold our leaders accountable. We can push for refugee policies that are fair, compassionate and humane. We can make sure that the values we say we believe in hope, opportunity, justice apply to everyone. Not just some.
Because this isn’t just politics. It’s people. It’s families. It’s lives. And those lives deserve dignity, security and respect.
Yes, change takes time. And yes, it can be difficult.
But I believe it’s possible because I’ve seen it.
Because I’ve lived it.
I came to this country as a scared little girl, not knowing what the future would look like. And today, I stand here as a former refugee. A pharmacy student. A young woman who believes deeply in the power of community and compassion.
So today, let’s not just reflect. Let’s act.
Let’s raise our voices for the ones still waiting to be heard.
Let’s fight for a future where no one is left behind.
Let’s Walk forward together hand in hand for a country where every refugee feels safe, seen and supported.
Let this moment be filled with words that matter. Words that carry strength and truth. Words that help create the world we all want to live in.
Because every single person deserves the right to belong.
Thank you.
