Nari was surprised to get an incoming video call. ( ABC News: Hamed Akrami )
Nari was a teenager when she was groomed online by a family acquaintance.
The former Tasmanian student says she was shut out of meetings set up in response to the abuse.
Sexual assault support services are advocating for children and teenagers to be heard when it comes to decision-making around abuse.
Nari* frowned at her phone when an incoming video call buzzed.
The Tasmanian teen had been in the middle of a reply text to a man called Ray*, who was a family acquaintance she met overseas two years earlier.
Content warning: This story contains details of grooming.
She was messaging to say it wasn't a good time to talk when he'd started calling her anyway.
When she answered the call, Ray was lying bare-chested on his couch.
The pair had met years earlier when Nari had visited her parents' home country.
They had later become Facebook friends and messaged each other regularly.
Nari had a dysfunctional home life and the decades-older Ray offered calm and reasonable conversation. He was someone who seemed to understand her.
Unlike her own parents, he called her names like "sweetie" and "beautiful" and "darling".
And he said that when she returned for another visit, he would teach her to drive.
But there was something about this call that made Nari feel uncomfortable.
The way Ray was lying on his couch, the look on his face.
She asked him where his wife and kids were and he said they were away.
Ray walked into his bedroom, telling Nari he was alone and had no-one to sleep with.
He invited Nari to "come sleep with me".
He told her to undress in front of the phone, then wrap herself in a blanket.
When he asked her to lift her top, anxious about saying no again, she pulled it up to show a sliver of stomach.
Then Nari pretended her dad was yelling out to her and ended the call.
Later that night, Nari called a support helpline.
She had spoken to the person on the line before and they knew Nari was fearful of her father, that telling either of her parents about Ray and his behaviour would not be met with sympathy.
The person on the end of the line suggested Nari talk to someone at school.
So she reported the incident to a school psychologist the next day.
A meeting was then arranged between the psychologist, Nari's teacher and a child safety officer — but Nari wasn't invited to attend.
Nari was not invited to a meeting between her teacher, the school psychologist and a child safety officer. ( ABC News: Hamed Akrami )
"I was absolutely petrified of what was going to happen," she said.
By the time she got home, her parents had been told.
They were angry, confiscated her phone and kept her home from school the next day.
It left Nari isolated and feeling confused.
It is a common experience for victim survivors like Nari and one that sexual support advocates are trying to change.
Kathryn Fordyce, chief executive of sexual assault support service Laurel House, said well-meaning adults might shield young victim-survivors to protect them — but that it often did the opposite.
"They already feel like their power and their control in a situation has been taken by someone who's chosen to harm them," she said.
"By giving them information and having them involved in decision making, it actually is protective for them.
"You're giving them education to help keep themselves safe."
Ms Fordyce said victim-survivors with diverse backgrounds — Nari is from a migrant family — found it even harder to be heard.
"We probably do it better as a broad community when victim-survivors are white, articulate, relatively privileged young people," she said.
"We're willing to listen and seek the views of the ones who are, in inverted commas, easier to engage with.
"If they're disabled, if they've got communication challenges, if they're from a culturally diverse background, if they've got a history of engagement with the youth justice system, if they're Aboriginal … they're the groups that are not always being heard or listened to."
Nari is one of 24 advocates sharing their stories through Laurel House's Lived Experience Engagement Program (LEEP).
It links people who have lived experience of sexual harm with organisations who want to learn from their stories.
The advocates have a range of backgrounds and experiences and are paid for their time.
This year, Nari spoke about her experience at a national conference on family violence.
"It was the most intense and interesting and beautiful experience," she said.
"I was there with two other incredible victim-survivor advocates.
"The number of people who approached me and thanked me for sharing my story or empathised with me … it was a really meaningful experience."
She described being able to share her teenage experience without adult filters as empowering — and encouraged young victim-survivors to strive to be heard.
* Real names replaced for privacy reasons
